Deja Vu
by Melannen Halfelven
Summary: REVISED! Elladan and Elrohir find that all is not as it seems, for good or for evil, and that joy and pain come in equal proportions.
1. Farewell, Mellon Nin

Young Elrohir, Irime, and Elladan sat perfectly still behind a hedge, holding their breaths. They awaited the scream that was inevitable. A small giggle escaped Elladan's lips, causing his two companions to glare at him malevolently.

Then it came. "ELROHIR!" At that cue, all three sprang out from behind the hedge and began running for their lives. They knew what happened when somebody pranked Erestor, but they never learned not to. The youngest twin, Elrohir, tripped and fell in the dirt. Irime grabbed his arm and hauled him up.

"Quickly! If we are caught he shall turn us into orc meat!" Then she sprang after Elladan who was rapidly putting distance between himself and the more than slightly disgruntled Erestor. Of course, the whole prank had been Elrohir's idea, Irime had been the one to put it all in place, and Elladan stuck around to do what he did best, be the scapegoat for the other two. Not just that, though, he also had an incredible gift of making the adult Elves forgive him. So every time there was a prank, Elladan got them out of the mess they had gotten themselves into, only so that they could do it all over again.

Elrohir raced into the woods, with his two accomplices on his heels. Then found what he was looking for, a giant hollow oak tree that they used to hide in, and as far as they knew, no one else was aware of its existence. He was halfway inside when Irime and Elladan collided with him, slamming the peredhil into the back side of the hollow tree trunk.

All three were panting, they felt as though they had never run so hard in their lives, yet had all had, rather often really. Elrohir sat, rubbing his head. "Next time you decide to come barreling in like two mumakil, give me some warning." The dark-haired Irime tried to hold back a laugh, but it was to no avail. "Sadist." Elrohir growled, causing the elleth to fall over backwards laughing. "_Nessi_ . . ."

Then they became rigid, they could hear someone approaching. "Erestor." Elladan whispered.

"I know that you are here! Elohir, come out from where you are hiding and bring the rest of your clan of miscreants with you." Elrond's advisor said calmly, even though he was dripping with unidentified slime. He knew how to handle this, it had become a routine.

Elrohir nodded to Elladan, who carefully climbed out of the tree trunk. He approached Erestor with a smug look on his small face. "Lord Erestor." he bowed. "It was I that poured the slime on you, and I take responsibilities for my unlawful actions." Being a son of Lord Elrond, he had a gift with words, though Erestor was not fully convinced. "You see, Lord, the reason you thought that it was Elrohir that had committed the crime is because we look so much alike. Do not blame my twin for something I did."

Erestor sighed, "I forgive you. Just do not ever do it again, young master, do you understand?" he scolded lightly.

Elladan bowed, "Yes, I understand and I will never" he put emphasis on the word, "Do that again."

"That's a good lad, now run along."

Elladan began walking back into the woods and when he was sure Erestor had turned back towards the city, he whirled around and stuck out his tongue before he skipped off to Elrohir and Irime.

Lord Elrond and his wife Celebrian sat in the study with Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien. The Lord of Imladris was considering sending his sons, particularly Elrohir, to live in Lothlorien with their mother's kin for a few years. There they would be able to become warriors if they so wished or lore-masters like their father. He knew it would a good experience for both of them, allowing them to mature. The only thing holding him back was the idea of having them away so long. Though his wife also knew that she would miss the twins, even if they did have a mischievous side, but she had agreed to do what ever Elrond thought was best.

After a long silence, Elrond spoke. "They will go to Lothlorien."

Celeborn nodded, he too knew that it was a wise decision, albeit a hard one. He still grimaced at the memory of having had his quiver hung on random towers on occasion. It would be good for the brothers. Now the only thing left to do was to tell them, and no one knew how either would react, but chances were that whatever the reaction of one, it would be the same as the other.

Elrohir, Irime, and Elladan crept quietly back to the city, making sure not to alert anyone of their presence. They slipped in and out of the shadows, and before long they came to the large network of buildings where the twins would be awaited by their atar. There they parted, the twins sneaking inside while Irime ran towards her own home.

She belonged to the family of a craftsman, she had known the twins since birth, but even so their friendship was unexpected. She was a commoner while they were the sons of a great Elven Lord, and wielder of Vilya.

Irime could see many candles burning inside of her home, her parents were probably waiting on her. She opened the door and went inside, her naneth, atar, and older brother sat on a cushioned sofa, their faces were grim.

"Naneth? Atar? What is the matter?"

Her mother motioned for her to sit. "Irime, Lord Elrond has informed us that he is sending his sons to live with their mother's kin in Lorien until they are grown."

The shock in Irime's eyes told her mother that she had not even had the slightest clue of their departure.

"He told us to tell you that you will probably never see them again." She continued, and there was sorrow in her voice.

Tears welled up in Irime's blue eyes, "They can't be leaving, I just spoke with them not a _lumenn'_ ago!" She sounded distraught.

"Lord Elrond had not yet informed them. Irime, listen, it is for the better."

The tears spilled down the young Elf's cheeks, "No, they cannot go, they are my best friends." she choked.

"_Meldanya_, you must understand."

"Understand what?" she nearly yelled.

Then her father spoke, "Irime, did you really think that you be with them forever?"

She nodded, "It always happens in the tales that Lord Elrond tells us."

"Not always will you get all that you wish for. You have to choose your own path."

Then Irime ran out the door, despite her parents calls. She had to find Elrohir, he would know what to do, he always did.

Elrohir didn't want to leave, Imladris was his home. He would miss everything, especially his friends and parents. The young elfling was only seventeen years old, he had not yet even come to adolescence, as the Eldar reckon. He didn't want to go and live far away from everything that he knew.

He was suddenly brought back to reality when he heard frantic knocks on the door. It was probably Elladan, "Come in."

Irime rushed in and jumped on Elrohir's bed. "What are we going to do?"

The Elf wanted to help his friend, but he was just as lost and confused as she was. "I don't know."

It was morning and Irime had still not come home and her parents were worried. Finally they decided that the only other place she could be was with Elrohir. They went to Lord Elrond and he told them that both were in Elrohir's room sleeping soundly. Though he also knew that he would have to wake Elrohir and Elladan soon so that they would be ready to leave within the day, they would be traveling with their grandfather, Celeborn.

No one was glad to see the twins leave, for everyone in Imladris had taken a liking to the brothers.

When it was time for the sons of Elrond to depart, Irime had stayed in her bedroom, crying. Neither of the twins wanted to leave without saying goodbye to their friend, but she would not leave her quarters and she let no one in. So they left without a word of goodbye and heavy hearts. Their lives were changing rapidly before their eyes. Though maybe their paths would cross again in the future.


	2. Lovers

2,864 years later (19 _yeni_ or 'elven' years)

Irime sat in her room, the world was spinning too fast and everything seemed far too familiar. Legolas was leaving her to go on a quest from which he would probably never return, leaving her alone in Rivendell with no one to comfort her. He left to destroy the Ring of Power in Mount Doom with the rest of the Nine Walkers. She prayed that the Valar would lead him on a safe path and bring him home to her.

Irime choked back sobs as she stood at her window, staring out into the early morning mists. It was just like the day Elrohir had left her, just this time Legolas was more than a friend. How could she survive not knowing where her beloved was? Things weren't supposed to go this way, Legolas was not supposed to leave her, but he was.

"Irime?" Legolas said softly as he stepped into her room. The Prince felt his heart tear at the sight of her crying. "What is the matter, meleth nin?"

Stubbornly she wiped away her tears, "Nothing Legolas."

He smiled and pulled her into a tight embrace, "Something bothers you, I know it."

"I do not wish for you to leave on this quest."

He stroked her dark hair, "I do not want to leave you, but the fate of the world rests with one hobbit, I think it is wise for someone of intelligence to go on this quest." His remark caused her to laugh.

"Then you must go." she said sadly.

"Aye, that I must." he held her an arm's length away from him, "You will be fine."

She sighed, "And I hope you will be too, Legolas Thranduilion."

The Prince drew her closer to him and looked at her sorrowfully. "Understand, Irime, I do not wish to leave you."

"I know."

"Good." he pulled her against him and their lips met in a passionate kiss. She entwined her fingers in his golden hair as things became more fiery. He trailed kisses down her neck and ran his tongue along the sensitive edge of her pointed ear. "I love you, Irime." he said as he gently pulled her sleeve down, exposing her shoulder.

Then suddenly Aragorn opened the door, "Legolas . . . ." he trailed off. "Um . . . the Fellowship is getting ready to depart." Then the mortal gently closed the door, he too understood the meaning of leaving a loved one behind, with that thought he went to find Arwen.

Irime did not watch Legolas leave, for the thought alone was too painful for her. Instead she sat in her room; she felt miserable. She heard a knock on the door, more than likely it was Arwen. "Come in." she said as she wiped away the tears on her face.

A tall Elf walked in, he had raven hair and silver eyes. Despite herself, Irime had to admit that he was handsome.

He bowed, "Lady Irime, it has been a long time since I last saw you."

"Lord, may I ask who you are?"

He laughed cordially, "It is I, Elladan."

For a brief moment all of her sadness disappeared, "Elladan?" She cried, leaping up from her bed and embracing the Elf. "I cannot believe it is you!"

"Look at you, you have changed."

"As have you, mellon nin. How did you know I was here?"

He looked down at the floor, seeming to think of what to say, but then he made up his mind. "I came to see my father and he told me that you were missing your beloved Prince, so I decided that it was good of me, so wonderful as I am, to come up and see you."

She smiled, "Where is your brother?"

Author's note: for those who read the original- this all seems like I hardly changed it- but the later chapters are very different. Please review!


	3. Always

Elladan's eyes darkened, "He was taken captive when the Nazgul attacked the Dunedain, there is no news yet to say whether or not he is alive." It was evident that the older twin missed his brother dearly and had more than likely blamed himself.

"If Elrohir is anything like he used to be, he can find a way out." She rubbed his shoulders in a comforting motion.

Elladan exhaled deeply, "But he is not at all like what he used to be. Now, he has no time for family or friends, it always his duty, what he has to do. Though what he does not understand is that his duty also lies with his family."

"He is married?" Irime asked, even though the question was somewhat random.

Elladan shook his head, "No. He is never good with females, of any species." He laughed, "Once a friend of ours had a very well tempered mare, so, as a gift, Halbarad gave Elrohir the horse, and when he went to receive the mare, she kicked him in the ribs." he laughed again, recalling the memory.

"Why does that not surprise me? He always leaned towards the mortal half when it came to many things." she asked with dark humor. "I miss him, Elladan, he was like a brother to me." Irime said sadly. "I had started a million letters to speak with him over the years, but every time I realized that I had nothing to say, and that alone is a scary thought." She buried her face in his velvety robes and began to cry.

He picked her up and set her on her bed, "Shhh. Everything is going to be all right."

She clung to his blue robes, sobbing. It suddenly occurred to Elladan that perhaps she had never really had the time to realize how much she missed, perhaps even loved, his brother. Even though they had been young, the young half-Elf had always known that his two comrades were inseparable.

"Elladan." Irime whimpered.

The Half-elf cupped her cheek in his hand, "Irime, I have always loved you."

The young Elf looked up at him, "What?"

"You heard me, meleth nin."

Before she could possibly react he leaned towards her, their lips almost brushing, but she turned away. "Elladan, what is wrong with you?"

"Forgive me." Then he stood and walked stiffly out of the room.


	4. It Takes Time

Irime awoke the next morning, much earlier than she normally did. The incident with Elladan still was fresh and clear in her mind. He had known she was promised to Legolas, but yet . . . . . She was so baffled by his admittance that she had found it hard to focus on anything else. She and the prince had been planned to marry within the year, but now everything had changed, for seemingly the worse.

Then there was a knock on the door, and she quickly got up and threw a cloak around her shoulders, unaware that it was one that Elrohir had given her many years before. The gift of a dead Peredhil, and a dear friend.

Irime opened the door only to see Lord Elrond staring stoically at her. "My lord." she said, bowing.

"Elladan has left. I thought you may find that interesting." he said, more harshly than he had meant.

She nodded, "That I figured, lord. Though why would he act as he did, knowing my engagement to Legolas?" she asked, knowing all too well that he knew exactly what had happened. The High Lord of Imladris had the gift to read the minds of many, and she also had a feeling that it was probably nothing short of obvious that something had come between them.

He shook his head. "I am unsure, Elladan has always been a mystery to me. He did not mean to hurt you, he has always loved you, but he knew that your heart would only direct its course wherever Elrohir went, and that vexed him. He knew that you would always love Elrohir, and that even though you grew apart, your hearts could never be severed." Elrond said gently, as if speaking to a child.

"I have not seen Elrohir in many years, lord, and I do not understand of what you speak."

He laughed, "You shall understand in time, child." Then he left, leaving Irime trying to figure out his words.


	5. Fated Letters

Irime had been sitting in her room, nibbling on fruit and wondering what Elrond had meant. Then there was a knock on the door. "Who is it?"

"It is me, Arwen." The Evenstar said timidly.

Irime stood up and unlocked her door, "Come in." then she saw that Arwen's face was tear-streaked and her eyes were puffy. "What is the matter?"

Arwen held out a letter, it looked as though it had been scribbled in haste, on the run maybe even. It read:

_Arwen, beloved, please forget me and love another. Though I know you will be stubborn, as always, about this, trust my judgement and find an Elf better suited for you. My heart tells me that now, after Gandalf's death, more evil is coming. I fear I will not return. Forget the memories and live on. Give your brothers my love._

_Estel_

"Arwen, I am so sorry." Irime said after a moment.

The Elf just shook her head, "No, there's one for you too." then she handed Irime another letter, on slightly finer parchment and it was written in a smoother hand.

_Dearest Irime,_

_This quest, I know now, will claim my life. Move on without me and do not mourn my death, it is inevitable. Take care of my father, he will find my passing harsh, I am sure. If ever you need anything, Mirkwood is always welcoming you._

_Legolas_

Irime didn't know what to say or do, her heart was ripping. Irime hardly had the strength to stand, after a few seconds she collapsed on the bed, weeping. Arwen rubbed her back, both shared a common sadness, the loss of their loved one. The Eldar tended to be more straight forward in such matters, as Irime's letter clearly showed.

Irime stood up and fled from her room, tears streaming down her face. She needed to be alone. She raced down the hallway and dashed outside, ignoring any curious lookers. She ran and ran, unaware of where exactly her feet were taking her, she just ran away from everything.

Though soon she came to a familiar oak tree, its large branches had given her and the twins shelter from Erestor's wrath on more than one occasion. She knew she could find peace amongst its boughs.

The young Elf climbed as high as she possibly could in the tree and just sat there in the foliage, thinking things over. Legolas had told her to be unfaithful to him, had he somehow known of Elladan's feelings for her? No, she thought to herself, that is nigh impossible.

Then she heard a rustle in the leaves below her. "Milady, are you alright? I heard you crying." came a stern yet concerned voice. She peered down to see a familiar face.

"You knew! You knew that he was gone, and took advantage of the situation! Leave me, Elladan!" She growled at him.

The Elf on the ground smiled and shook his head. Then he jumped up into the tree and climbed up beside her. "May I ask why exactly you are so intent on making my life so miserable when we only first met?"

Irime looked at him quizzically. "Have you found your father's stow of pipeweed, Elladan?"

The Elf laughed, obviously enjoying their little argument. "I found that a long time ago, how did you know about it?"

Irime snorted, and smiled despite herself. "Your brother showed it to me."

The dark-haired Elf laughed again. "Did I now?" He only got another confused look from the _ness_. "Why, in the first place, Lady, did you confuse me with my older brother?"

"Elrohir?" she asked, unsure. She had always hated getting the two mixed up.

"Yes, now may I have the pleasure of your name?"

He had expected a different response, and the one he got shocked him. Irime threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. "Elrohir! You big orc, tis I, Irime!"

"Irime?"

"Yes! I cannot believe it is you!" She said, hugging him even harder.

Elrohir patted her back, obviously unaware of how he should react to such a sudden change in her personality. "The Elf can't breath Irime."

"Forgive me." She said, smiling even broader, if that was remotely possible. "It has been so long since I last saw you! I thought I would never see you again!" She said, resisting the urge to jump on him.

"Shall we talk on the ground?" He said before jumping down, with Irime at his heels.

"Do you have any spare time that maybe we could catch up on things?" She said cautiously, remembering what Elladan had told her.

Elrohir shook his head. "Irime, I am a warrior now, I do not have so much free time anymore to go on a rendezvous with someone who I have not seen in many years, and have nearly forgotten. The sky grows dark in the east again, things have changed." She was hurt beyond words by his cold and austere demeanor. "Namarie, Irime. It was a pleasant surprise, though I must be leaving." Then he turned and walked away.

"Why have you become so insensate?" she asked sadly.

He stopped, "Irime, war can change a person."

Suddenly they heard something behind them and they turned to see Elrond stepping through the woods. At first he did not take notice of Elrohir, for he had long since given up all hope for his return .

"Irime, Arwen told me about your letter from Legolas. I am terribly sorry."

"What is wrong with Legolas?" Elrohir asked, stepping forward.

Irime turned on him, "None of your concern, that is what it is! So just leave me alone!" She nearly screamed. Confusion misted his silver eyes, he did not understand.

"Wha-." he asked before she cut him off.

"Just drop it." she said venomously.

"Elrohir?" Elrond asked, finding his first time to speak.

The younger Elf bowed, his chocolate colored hair coming down, shadowing the sides of his face. "Father."

"Come here!" He said, walking up to his son and embracing the Half Elf. "I had begun to loose hope."

"So had I father, so had I."

"What is this between you two, you fight like Galadriel and Celeborn!" he asked, studying the facial expressions of the two.

'He . . .' 'She . . .' they both said in unison, pointing to the other. 'That unfeeling . . .' 'I cannot believe she . . .' 'What are you saying!' 'Never!' 'Just be silent, Elro- . . .'

All Elrond heard was a jumble of angry words spilling from both of their mouths. "Silence! One at a time! Please, spare my sanity!"

Irime took in a deep breath, "I was sitting up in that oak," she motioned to the tree, "And then suddenly he comes along and I tell him to leave me alone, but he continues to harass me!"

Elrohir looked at her in shock. "Me! What! You were angry at me because you thought that I was my brother, Valar have mercy on his soul if he ever sees you again! I try to ask you what is wrong, then you are all happy when you find out who I really am! Suddenly though she is all mad again!"

Elrond wanted to laugh, neither of them had changed much when it came down to it. "First I think I can clear some things up when I explain the hatred she has for Elladan."

"NO!" Irime yelled.

"Why are you mad at my brother what did he ever do to you?"

"Quiet." Elrond said. "I will tell you."


	6. Friends Don't Let Friends Cry Alone

Irime had not seen much of Elrohir in the past three days, if she did it was only a fleeting glimpse. He had seemed to bury himself in work, probably so he had an excuse not to see her, she thought to herself. There were so many things he was doing to avoid her, taking longer routes that did not involve going down the hall where her bedroom was. Everything, it was just driving her mad.

It was late at night and she was tired, she put on a nightgown and was about to blow out the candle that provided light for the room when Glorfindel and Erestor came in with solemn faces, they hadn't even knocked. How rude, she thought.

"Milady." Erestor bowed. "We have a message for you, we can only guess at what is says." he said holding out a piece of parchment sealed with green wax.

"Who is it from?" She inquired, taking the letter.

"From Mirkwood, _herinya_." (My lady) Glorfindel said, his words carrying the weight of an executioner's axe.

Irime felt her heart sink, her worst fears could be in this little note. She opened the letter with shaky fingers.

_Lady Irime,_

_I was informed that Legolas Thranduilion, heir to the throne of Northern Mirkwood, has been killed in battle. He sent a letter to his father and Thranduil was told by his son to give you this._

_My Regrets._

Irime noticed then the ring that sat precariously in the bottom curl of the paper, ready to fall out. She picked it up and saw that it was the ring that Legolas' mother had once worn before she passed into the Undying Lands when the Prince was very young. Irime picked it up and slipped in onto her finger, it fit perfectly. Then her thoughts strayed back to the letter, Legolas was dead.

Irime felt her heart plummet and she could not seem to breath, her mind was racing. It could not be true, she said to herself in denial, but there it was plain in ink.

"NO!" She screamed, her knees buckling underneath her. "NO!" Tears sprang from her eyes and flowed down her face like rivers, Legolas was dead. Her love was dead. Glorfindel and Erestor needed not conformation to know what was written, they already knew. They picked her up and set her on her bed. She thrashed around, trying to kick them. Though they both knew that they had to somehow restrain her, or else she may do harm to herself.

Elrohir sat in his study, pouring over mounds of papers, continuously becoming more and more frustrated. He was not meant for the life of a scholar, that was his brother. All of the papers annoyed him greatly.

Suddenly he heard an ear-splitting scream coming from Irime's room. He knew that it was probably nothing, but the tone that she had screamed forced the Elf into action, it reminded him of the time when they were young and the elleth had come upon a lone warg, she was frightened, terrified even. He stood up and quickly strode from the study. Then there was another scream, he quickened his pace, his dark robes billowing around his feet. Then he broke into a run, all of the Elves he passed in the halls turned their heads to see where he was going.

When he reached her room and opened Irime's door, he saw Erestor and Glorfindel trying to hold her down. Immediately he took control. He motioned for them to leave and they did as he had ordered without a word.

He grabbed her fists when she tried to punch at him. "Irime, Irime, tis I, Elrohir." She stopped suddenly and her breathing slowed slightly and she seemed to calm down. Then she buried her face in his velvety cloak and just wept, whimpering pitifully. "Hush, hush Irime. Quiet." Soon she collapsed against him and just lay in his arms, her body shaking. He then saw that she had something balled up in her hand, gently he opened up her fist and straightened out the parchment. After reading it, he too felt immense sorrow in his heart, for he and the prince had always been very good friends.

Elrohir did not know how long they had sat like that, with her in his lap with his arms wrapped protectively around her. He knew that nothing he could say would make Legolas' passing any softer. Then he noticed that she had fallen asleep, and no longer plagued by sorrow she slept peacefully. The peredhil picked her up and gently lay her down on the bed and tucked her in.

"Ro, do not leave me. Everyone has left me." She said sadly when he went to leave.

He smiled, "Then I will not." He knew that what he was about to do would probably bring rumors galore to Imladris, but Irime was right, he could not leave her. He took off his cloak and shirt until he only had on his undergarments and then he climbed in beside her. Before he could get totally comfortable she had already snuggled against him. Elrohir smiled, he was glad to see that she was happy, soon he too was asleep.


	7. Wounded Souls

Elrohir stretched yawned, his eyes coming blearily into focus. It took a second before he remembered why he was in Irime's room, then memories of the letter and the news it told once again filled his heart with grief. It was dark outside and Elrohir wondered what had woken him at this early hour. He turned to see that Irime wasn't in the bed, and he sensed that he was alone and had been for some time now. Elrohir immediately jumped up, he did not know why she had left without telling him, and his heart told him that all was not well.

He hastily put on his dark blue robes before he rushed out of her room, not knowing where to go, but just following his Elven intuition. He ran outside and then into the forest, the tall trees loomed over him as he sprinted. Something was terribly wrong and he knew it.

His mind raced as he dodged the trees and leapt over fallen logs, he was worried. Ever since they had been children together, Elrohir and Irime had always had some strange form of mental connection, very similar to that which he shared with his brother. Not even Lord Elrond was able to find words to describe it. It had saved both of their lives on many occasions, and now it urged him on with all the speed he could physically handle. Never in his life had he felt such fear for Irime.

Then suddenly he stopped, he could hear the harsh cries of orcs coming from somewhere near. Normally he would have proceeded with caution, though now he ran towards them. Then a clearing came into his view and there were several orcs there, one pointing its weapon at something on the ground.

Elrohir did not need to make his presence known, within seconds the orcs knew of him. He grabbed a sword that one of them had left lying carelessly and hacked at the creatures relentlessly with the brazen blade. The leader, or so the Elf assumed, grabbed his own weapon and rushed at Elrohir, and the Elf killed it. Soon all of the orcs lay dead, Elrohir rushed over to Irime and saw that an arrow had punctured her chest.

She wasn't breathing, Elrohir quickly extracted the arrow and did his best to treat the wound, but he had come too late.

Irime didn't know what was happening, she could see the clearing and Elrohir slaughtering the orcs. Then she could see the look of terror on his face when he realized it was too late. Irime saw her friend take up her limp body and rock back and forth, tears flowing from his silver eyes. She heard him curse the Valar for what they had done, she saw the look of defeat on his face.

She found that she could not bear to see him so grieved and that she didn't really wish to leave so soon. Then before she could think otherwise Irime found herself in a state of grey nothingness. She couldn't seem to breath correctly. She tried to cough, but it didn't really work.

"Ro." she croaked, trying to breath.

Elrohir turned when he thought he heard the breath, but she seemed as lifeless as ever. Then he heard her try to say his name, when she did, the half-elf pulled her into a sitting position, clapping her back to see if it might help her breathing, thankfully it did.

"Irime." He said in utter relief before picking her up and carrying her back to Imladris with as much speed as he could manage.


	8. To Understand What Lies Beneath

Elrohir sat beside the bed which Irime lay in, his father had said that she would probably recover quickly and be well within a month at the most. Though the young half-Elf wondered what exactly had driven her to leave at such an early hour, it made no sense to him.

He took her smaller hand in his own and began to sing softly,

_Ar ve tirnentë, or I coronna etuller minna eälë lenwi tuimat; _

_Ar ilamma né or ilya Ambar I lúmessë, ar únë lamma hequa I Yavanno lírala. _

_Undu linderya I tuimat randortaner ar eänë vanimë ar hallë, ar tuller lóten; _

_Ar sin cuivaner Ambaressë Aldu Valinóreva._

He pushed her dark hair behind her pointed ears. Irime was in a healing sleep and he knew that she would get well and her heart would slowly heal itself of grief.

"Brother, please get some sleep." Elladan said as he came into the room. "She will be fine, we do not need to worry for someone as strong as she." He sat down on the bed beside her and went to caress her face.

"Do not touch her." Elrohir growled.

Elladan's face fell, "You know what happened?" He had always feared his brother's reaction upon finding that his older twin also had been taken the dark-haired _ness._

Elrohir nodded "And I don't need reminding, especially not from you."

"Brother, please, you must understand! I know you love her too, but I do not wish for her to be the only thing that could tear us apart! You are my only brother, my twin! My mirror!" Elladan said, his temper rising. "You cannot say that you do not feel even the slightest desire for her, for it would be a lie!"

"Never." Elrohir hissed. "I would not take advantage of someone like you would!"

Elladan stood, "I know more than you think. I know, brother, your lust for her! I feel that it would probably be best if you leave her forever and never come back, for her safety at least."

Elrohir's eyes darkened, "No, you should leave before she awakes. Go now before I remove you!"

Elladan knew that his brother would not bluff so he backed slowly out of the room and shut the door behind him. He had never thought that losing Irime would hurt so much, or the rejection by his brother.

"Elrohir, who was that who just left?" Irime said weakly, having just awoken.

"No one, Irime."

The _ness'_ face grew dark, "Elrohir, why do you lie to me?"

The Elf looked down at his feet, "Twas my brother."

Irime nodded slowly, "I do not want to be the reason for hatred, Elrohir. He is your brother, still."

"But he took advantage of your grief! While you were weakest!" Elrohir said, sitting back down beside her.

Irime knew that Elrohir would never do anything to harm her, but there was doubt, he had changed. Everyone had changed, she had thought Elladan had only ever been her friend, but she was wrong. What she wrong by trusting Elrohir?

"How do I know that you would not?"

Elrohir smiled, "I am not like my brother, you can trust me."

"But what if I cannot? How do I know that you would not use my sadness over Legolas as your brother did?" Her doubt had gotten out of hand, and she knew that Elrohir would not do such a thing, yet there was a warning in her heart.

Elrohir, hurt beyond words, got up and left soundlessly. Why did she not trust him? What did he do to make her fear him so?

Elrohir knew that Irime had just been afraid and soon both were on good terms again he had gone back to his vigil by her bedside. It was late, and Elrohir had gotten very little sleep during the last couple days and he was exhausted, ever for an Elf. Soon he had fallen asleep sitting beside her, using his arms like a pillow he slept with his head on her bed.

He did not awake when Irime's parents came into the room with Elrond who made sure they were quiet so they would not wake either of the younger Elves.

"My son, Elrohir." Elrond introduced the sleeping Noldo in a volume not above a whisper.

"The child who moved to Lorien some years ago?" Irime's mother asked, eyeing the handsome peredhil by her daughter's side.

Elrond nodded, "I guess the lack of sleep has finally gotten the better of him." The Elf Lord said smiling. Irime's parents exchanged curious looks.

Elrond bent down beside his son and lightly shook his shoulder, "Elrohir, awaken, ion nin."

The younger Elf yawned, "Father." Then he stood up and stretched, "I guess I fell asleep." Then he noticed the two other Elves in the room, he nodded "Suilad."

Irime's mother raised her eyebrows suggestively, she only got a confused look from Elrohir. "We have come to take our daughter home."

Elrohir felt his stomach drop, he would not get to see her that much if she left to live with them, for now they lived far away, almost a day's ride. His duties also would keep him from visiting her. It was different for the High Lord's son to visit an old friend in the healing ward, but to ride that far to see a woman . . . . . . he could have laughed imagining all of the absurd rumors that would arise among his peers. He found he could not speak, "I . . .I am going on to bed."

Though just before he left, Irime awoke, "Elrohir?" she said, looking around the room for him, somewhat frantically, fearing that he too had left her.

He went back and knelt beside her, "I am here and so are your parents, Irime."

She looked then at her parents and smiled, "Ada! Naneth!" They walked over to her and embraced their daughter, while Elrohir stepped back and watched. "Ro, come here." she said as if complaining, knowing well how he hated to be ignored.

He slipped past her parents and sat beside her, "Aye?"

"Do not act like it does not nettle you when you cannot keep both eyes on me. I shall not be fooled that easily, though I am glad to see that you were considering leaving and getting some rest." She said, playing with one of his warrior braids, twirling it around her finger.

"Stop it." he said, more to show her parents that there was nothing more than friendship between them, than out of real annoyance. Though Irime was making it very difficult, she continued to mess with his hair until finally she gave it one good yank and then left it be.

He snarled, "What was that for?"

She just smiled then she turned to her parents. "What are you doing here?"

"We have come to take you home." her father said, giving Elrohir a sharp glance.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"We are taking you home with us."

"When do we leave?"

"First light tomorrow." Her mother said.

Irime looked around for Elrohir and was about to give up hope for saying farewell to him when he jogged out from a building and up to her. "I just came to . . . say namarie." He said sadly.

She hugged him tightly, "Promise you will visit often."

"I promise, Irime." he whispered in her ear.

She sighed, her breath tickling his pointed ear, aroused him. His nails dug into the palms of his hand, until they nearly bled. "Elrohir I do not want to leave you. Everyone is left or is leaving."

"I am not going any where." He said gruffly stepping back away from her, annoyed immensely at himself for reacting the way he did to her touch. "I had better go, namarie," he swallowed. "Mellon nin." The words were so faked and false sounding he could have punched himself.

She backed away and looked at him questioningly. "Ro . . . . ."

He shook his head dismissively, trying to ignore the physical evidence of his growing desire. "Namarie." he said, before walking stiffly away, cursing himself.


	9. Silent Nights

After her departure, Elrohir and Irime had not communicated. Though one day in the beginning of Nenime Elrohir received a letter saying that Irime's father had been killed in a skirmish.

He knew that it was only right to go and see her, though he found it hard with the undeniable knowledge of his feelings for her. Though he went anyway, he knew he had to, no matter what it might cost him.

Elrohir knocked on the door, Irime's mother Artanis answered, her face was tear-streaked. "Lord Elrohir, it is such a–."

Elrohir cut her off, "Where is she?" He wanted to get in, see her, and leave. Hopefully without mishap.

"This way." Artanis led Elrohir to Irime's room, where the young elf had locked herself in.

Elrohir glanced at the concerned Elf as if to say, 'I need to talk to her alone' Irime's mother complied and left.

Elrohir rested his head on the door, there was more than just the thick, wooden door that kept them separate. "Irime, it is I, Elrohir. Please let me in."

He heard the lock on the door unlatch and Irime opened it, "Come in."

Irime stood silently and watched as he shut the door, before pacing the room restlessly. His face was expressionless, but the silvery depths of his eyes were emotional maelstroms.

The peredhil strode over to her and stopped a few feet away. "Irime, listen, there are things that we need to talk about, and do not try to avoid the subject, it will only make things worse."

Irime's brows lowered in confusion. "Of what do you speak, mellon?"

She saw a flicker of something across Elrohir's face, but before she could identify it, it was gone. "Nothing. It is nothing."

"I think it is something. You do not let small things bother you. What is it?"

He looked up in thought, Irime never remembered seeing him so nervous, scared even. "How are you? The death of your atar, I know, must have been harsh."

He was hiding something, she knew it. Though getting information from Elrohir when he did not wish it was harder than trying to find a needle in a haystack, so she let it be.

"I am as well as can be expected. My naneth had a hard time accepting it. A letter has been sent to my brother in Mirkwood." she paused, as if just the name caused her anguish. "He is with his wife there." Another wave of sorrow.

"I am so sorry. It must have be hard. Losing someone you love." He had not even been aware he had spoken the last sentence aloud, the look of anger on her face made him step back.

"You cannot understand. Legolas was my life, still is."

It was like a physical blow to his heart. False hope, that is all his life had ever been. "Of course I cannot. I am a heartless person, I cannot love. So how could I possibly understand?"

His sudden burst of anger surprised her, but not near as much as what he said. It made no sense to her. "Elrohir, what is the matter?"

"You!"

By the look on her face she had not understood in what sense he had meant it, for her face instantly turned to stone. "Elrohir, leave." she whispered, a barely audible utterance. When he did not move, his feet feeling like large stones and his legs like butter, she spoke more forcefully. "Leave!" He could not move, he wanted to, he wanted to run, but he was anchored there. Like a ship tied to a pier in a wrathful storm. Taking his stillness for defiance, she screamed. "GET OUT!"

Artanis sat slowly stirring her tea, she had never thought of life without her husband before. Irime, she knew, probably would have the worst time of all, having probably blamed herself for the whole ordeal.

Suddenly Artanis heard a scream from Irime's room, passing without trouble through the thick stone between the rooms. "GET OUT!" She got up and walked over to Irime's door. Before she could reach it, Elrohir stormed past her, not apologizing when there shoulders hit with bone-jarring force.

Irime's mother didn't really know what to make of the situation, so she watched him leave. She looked out of the window to see him leap up onto his horse and race off.

Irime's mother could not take it anymore, so she, finding the door unlocked, opened it. "What in the name of Iluvatar happened?"

"Nothing."

Artanis sat beside her daughter. "Tell me."

"I know not what is wrong with him. He has been acting so odd lately."

The older Elf grinned slightly. "You have not seen him for four months, lately is a vague word to be used in the circumstances."

"Ever since when he came to see me off when we left."

Artanis looked long at her daughter's troubled face. "How has he been acting that is so peculiar?"

Irime shrugged. "More distant and aloof, quicker to anger . . . . just not Elrohir."

"You have barely gotten to know him."

"Naneth we used to be as close as he now is with his brother." she smiled grimly at the memories.

"Many years have passed."

"I am tired, naneth. I think I will go to sleep now."

Her mother nodded and left. She was beginning see that the one thing that she feared most, the one thing that was forbidden by Elven law, was happening. Right before her eyes, and she was helpless to stop it. She had kept her silence well, ever since it had been put into her keeping. Artanis decided that it was best for her vow of secrecy to not be broken, for she was not even sure. Though it troubled her, it was as if her worst nightmare was coming into reality.


	10. Doom, Fate, and Shadows

When Elrohir arrived back at Imladris, he received more than a few curious glances. All of them were put quickly in their place by an icy glare by two mithril daggers. Elrond summoned his youngest son to his private chambers before dusk. There he informed both of the twins, Elladan having come back from his short absence, that the Dunedain had been mustered and they would be leaving within the next couple days.

_The days are short. If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead._ Was the message Elrohir was told to relay to Aragorn upon finding him. The younger twin did not need any help remembering it, the words alone were frightening enough to stay clearly in his memory for much longer than it would take him to find his mortal brother.

He had been preparing his things when Erestor had come to him. The ebony-haired advisor had stood on the other side of the room, staring at him from under his long, jet black lashes. Elrohir almost laughed, thinking he was probably the only person in Arda who had longer eyelashes than his sister. Erestor's dark, emerald eyes held him in sway. His father's advisor had always unnerved him. Whether it was the frighteningly knowing eyes that seemed to see into his soul, the crimson lips nearing to black, or the pale, ivory skin framed by the curtain of midnight, Elrohir was not sure. All he knew was that Erestor had always been a mystery to him, even as a young elfling. _All the more reason to stick chicken feathers in honey on this Lord's seat._ He thought sourly, it had been his only plan that had ever gone truly awry, the victim ending up being Cirdan the Shipwright rather than Erestor. Elrohir remembered being in a very similar situation, all those years ago.

"Lord Elrohir."

"My lord."

"You leave in two days to ride with the Dunedain."

"Aye." Elrond's son said suspiciously, he hated the way the advisor always made each statement he announced seem like a prophecy. The man's very voice echoed like the footsteps of Doom.

"You will not return."

Elrohir eyed him warily. "I will be killed." It was more of a statement than a question.

The emeralds darkened to shadows, making him seem more chilling than ever. "The man who returns will not be the son of Elrond." His words puzzled the peredhil. As if sensing his confusion, Erestor continued. "A secret shall be told, an oath shall be made, and another shall be broken. You will return, but you will be only a shadow."

"I do not understand."

"Then perhaps you can cheat Doom. Though it is unlikely. If you stay blind and wander in the darkness, you are just as likely to come again to the light."

Then he turned, his dark green robes swishing about his feet. Their velvet matching the color of his eyes. Once he was out the door, Elrohir wandered out to the balcony that overlooked Rivendell. The cool night had descended on the valley, and the moonlight shimmered on the waters as they ran through the great city. The sound of the splashing river rose up from below him, the tumultuous waters leaping over rocks and down waterfalls. The mist which rose from it formed small droplets on his skin.

"Elrohir! Your father told me you could be found here!"

The peredhil jumped and, turning, saw his friend Halbarad striding towards him. "I ride with you tomorrow." Said Elrohir, turning his back to Halbarad and facing the night.

The Ranger stopped in his tracks, his dark grey eyes flashing. "To what purpose?"

"I desire to go to war, as does my brother."

The tall man thought on the information quietly for a second before responding. "Something ails thee, I can tell."

"Tis only something the advisor said."

He heard his friend snigger behind him. "You two do have a rather interesting friendship, aye?" Elrohir groaned. "Worry not, he has me quaking in my boots too, you are not alone."

At this Elrohir laughed aloud. "You? Quaking? I doubt it."

Halbarad walked up and set his hand on Elrohir's shoulder. He reminded the peredhil so much of his brother, Estel. Except Halbarad was of a stronger build, and slightly shorter. "Of what did he speak?"

"You know Erestor. It was Doom, Fate, and Shadows, as always."

Author's note: I hope you like it. Updates will come quicker with reviews. I know Erestor is kinda freaky here ;) Review and tell me what u think!


	11. To War!

At dawn, two days later, thirty of Elrohir's kinsmen were assembled and ready to move out. They all sat upon magnificent grey steeds, wearing no token of their heritage save the many-rayed star brooch that clasped their cloaks at the left shoulder. They were grim of face, like worn stones, and their grey eyes were shielded by the shadow of their hoods.

Elrohir glanced around the growing crowd of Elves, who had come to see their Lord's son off to a battle which he may not return. _Will not return._ He reminded himself grimly, upon thinking of Erestor's prognostication. His eyes wandered over all of the faces, until his eyes locked with those of his brother. He was obviously concerned. The younger of the two forced himself to smile and gave a small shrug.

His eyes did not find what they sought, though. He knew that it was pointless, looking for her when he knew for certain she would not be there. She did not even know he was leaving.

"Men of the West!" The deep, thunderous voice filled the courtyard. Elladan stood high in his stirrups, holding his shining sword aloft. "We ride now to the aid of one who has oft come to ours! No oath binds you to go farther than you shall! We ride!" With a great flourish the thirty horsemen drew their swords.

"Elendil!" the cry rose as a great clamor, shaking the stones and reverberating until it faded away into the pale light of the morning.

The loud clatter of hooves followed as they raced from the gates of the ancient eldarin stronghold.

The road was long and hard, though after many days they overtook the Rohirrim in the night. Upon finding that they had, at long last, found who they sought, the Dunedain rejoiced. In their own way. The fact that their leader was still alive brought them hope beyond what they had imagined. The next day they arrived at Dunharrow.

The lines of people, poorly armed with wooden shields and homemade swords, stared openly at the Dunedain as they passed through the lines of tents. The likes of the Men of the West had not been seen for many years in that part of Middle Earth. They believed that an Elven host from the faraway land known as Rivendell had come to their aid, though they were only partially correct.

Elrohir and his brother pitched their own tent amongst their kin. Elrond's youngest son was glad that, at last, he might have the chance of a decent sleep. Though he was wrong. It seemed that he had just closed his eyes when one of the Rohirrim said that King Theoden wanted to see him.

Groaning, he went out and wandered around before finally coming to the King's pavilion. It was marked by many flags and banners depicting Eorl and his white steed. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Elrohir entered. The king was obviously surprised to see him in such a tired state.

Theoden bowed. "My lord."

Elrohir responded in kind. "You sent for me?"

"You have a visitor."

Elrohir must have looked terribly confused because Theoden laughed amiably. He stepped aside, and Elrohir was taken aback when he saw Irime standing inconspicuously behind him. She was wrapped in a faded grey cloak.

He scolded himself for looking like a fool when a large smile spread across his face. "Irime!"

She smiled and they embraced.

"What do I owe this . . . . visit?"

She smiled. "I heard that — perchance . . . . have you seen Legolas?"

Elrohir's heart hit bottom with a jarring thud so hard it hurt. "Follow me." He led her out into the twilight and to Legolas' tent.

The Prince came out after they announced themselves, and nearly tripped on his own feet upon seeing Irime. After a very brief, faltering greeting Legolas ended up glueing Irime to a tree upon a very passionate reacquainting session. Elrohir wanted to be sick. Not given much of a choice, he left after about five seconds.

He strode back to his tent before throwing himself down on his pallet and brooding. Elladan did not ask any questions, knowing well why his brother was so miserable.

"I told you she would only ever hurt you, _ernil._" Elladan said after a while.

Elrohir shifted and put his arms behind his head. "Perhaps you are right."

"Am I not always?"

"_Avo bedo, narendur."_

"I am aware of a fact that you might find interesting." Elladan persisted.

"_Mana?_"

"Oh, nothing of interest."

Elrohir snarled at his brother. "You just said that it was interesting."

"She cares for you."

"How would you know this?"

He smiled in the dark. "It is obvious to everyone but yourselves."

Elrohir snorted, "What is so obvious?"

"Even Thranduilion knows it. Did you wonder why he was so quick to remind her of his affections?"

The younger twin rolled his eyes. "Now _that_ was obvious, but still, brother, why?"

"He fears that you could take her from him."

"That is ludicrous!"

"Not to him."

"Our friendship is nothing to be feared."

Elladan laughed. "Friendship? A rather odd name for a rather odd thing. She feels the same way for you as you do for her. I am aware of that much."

"I doubt your words."

"Her eyes betray her."

"You certainly have been watching her closely, have you not?" Elrohir sounded almost defensive.

"There are bigger fish in the sea, _mellon nin._"

The Dunedain were grateful for the night's rest, short though it was. Elrohir had gotten little sleep, if any at all. He hated that he was unsure about himself and Irime, almost as much as he detested Elladan for bringing up the subject. Though there was only one way to find out.

Elrond sat at his desk, his eyes far off and distant. So much depended on one hobbit, and the fate of the world rested with nine companions who he was unsure even lived. Though even as he sat there, staring out into the black of night that blanketed Imladris, his thoughts meandered to many years before.

"_Elrond, why do you do this? Nothing good will ever come of it!" Erestor glared at his lord, furious. For the first time he had lived in Imladris, the advisor was truly testing his limits._

_Elrond spun around. "I already have enough guilt! I do not need it from you as well!"_

"_Have you even considered —."_

"_It would never do!"_

_Erestor slammed his fist down on the desk, causing it to shudder. "So you do this instead?"_

_Elrond bent down and took the small baby in his arms. Though the embrace was brief, for he quickly shoved the child into Erestor's hands. "Do what you must, but, whatever the case, I do not want to know. I never want to hear of what happens. I want to be ignorant of the fact that this child even exists!"_

"_What can I do, lord?" Erestor pleaded._

_Elrond shook his head. "I know not, but get the child out of Imladris!"_

Elrond looked up to see his advisor leaning over him. "Master Elrond, are you unwell? You look ashen."

The Lord of Imladris shook his head slowly. "Just memories."

A flame of realization kindled in Erestor's eyes. "That you do not want to know of."

Elrond nodded. A sudden wave of conscience swept over him and he found it hard to speak. What had his faithful advisor done to the child that fateful night? Erestor would do anything he bid, without questions. Had his own fear caused the destruction of an innocent child? He swallowed, trying to get past the barrier that was between himself and his senses.

"Erestor, what happened? I need to know."

The advisor's green eyes studied him intently, but after a moment Erestor sat down and began the tale.

Elrohir had followed her away from the camp, unsure as to why she had left without alerting any one. He tread silently behind her, making sure she was unaware of his presence. When she finally stopped and sat down un a large boulder, overlooking the valley below them, Elrohir stayed in the shadows.

Irime wrapped her arms around her knees and gazed at the stars. Elrohir watched with interest as she twirled the silver band on her index finger, a testament of Legolas' love for her. Though something kept pulling her back. Like a tether as she leaned over an unending abyss. There was always the nagging feeling that she was doing something wrong, unjustly treating someone. Though she did not know who.

She started when the small sound of a snapping stick betrayed Elrohir's presence behind her. He smiled.

"What are you doing out so late?" He walked up and sat beside her.

"Thinking."

A shadow crossed his face, though it was gone before she was even sure it was there. "About Legolas."

"Aye, and everything."

"Do you love him?"

The question caught her off-guard. "I – of course I do."

Elrohir laughed. "No, do really love him?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "Where is this conversation going?"

"No where."

"So illusive." She murmured.

"As always."

It was as if someone had lit a candle for her, and all of the pieces that had been missing fell into place. "It is you, is it not?" by his clear look of confusion, Irime could tell he did not know of what she spoke. "The tether. The one thing that kept me from jumping into something that I would never escape. You always have been. Since before I can remember. You have always loved me."

Elrohir took a while to process all of the information. She had figured out more in thirty seconds than he had during his entire lifetime. "Aye, I have." He was on dangerous territory, and he knew it.

She cupped his face in her hand. "Elrohir, I," she sighed. "I love _you_."

Elrohir's kiss, when it finally came, was so different from Legolas', so full of doubt and uncertainty, like he expected her to pull away. It was soft and feather light, yet intoxicating. She entangled her fingers in his chocolate hair and pulled him closer. Everything had built up to this one moment. It was all or nothing. Right when reality was beginning to slip away, there was a call from far off.

"Irime?"

They jerked apart just as Legolas entered the small clearing. He smiled. "Irime, I was worried for you, for you did not alert me of your leaving."

She nodded dumbly, the taste of Elrohir's lips still lingering on her own. "Elrohir came and found me."

Anger swept over the prince's features, though it was soon gone. "All is well, then?" she nodded, "You had best come back to the camp, it is late and foul things wander under the light of the moon." He gave Elrohir a venomous glance and then he started walking back towards the lines of tents and pavilions behind the lines of trees.

She nodded once again and stood up to follow him back to the encampment, though Elrohir grabbed her hand. "Irime . . . ."

She smiled and stepped forward until only their fingertips still touched. "I had better go, Legolas will be wondering where I am." Then she vanished into the dark line of trees, leaving Elrohir alone with his thoughts.

Finally, he retired for the night, only to find Elladan no where to be found. The Rohirrim said that he had taken night watch. Elrond's youngest son ground his teeth, the one time he needed his brother's advice, the twit was no where to be found. Though just as he thought that, there was a flourish of canvas and his brother was inside, standing beside him. He was obviously pleased and had a devilish smirk on his face.

"What a lovely night, brother. A pity you have to spend it alone while the Prince gets the prize."

Elrohir wanted to punch him senseless, though he knew it would get him nowhere. "Leave me, Elladan, or be silent."

He received another smirk. _What is he up to?_ Elrohir wondered. "Say it."

Elrohir looked at him with a confused expression on his face. "Say what brother?"

"Tell me I was right."

The younger twin smiled. "You were right."

"Thank you." he walked past his brother and ruffled his hair as he passed.

Please review! I know that a lot happened in this chapter. Tell me what you think!


	12. The Paths of the Dead

Thanx reviewers. The long awaited-twelfth chapter! Dae- I am glad u like the revised story, and puppy-eyes work terribly well on me :)

The Paths of the Dead were dismal, and dark. The small group traveled without speaking, and their horses were becoming increasingly nervous. Elrohir had no idea how long they had been traveling through the black tunnels and chambers under the mountain; it felt like a day or so, but it could have been years and he never know it.

Elrohir's stepped into a large, underground hall, and something cracked beneath his boot.

"Do not look down." Said Aragorn from the head of the Company.

Elrond's youngest son held up his torch, and he had trouble keeping down his heaving gut. The skeletons of the Dead were scattered on the floor. Banners, old and torn, rested against the walls.

"The Dead are following." Murmured Legolas, glancing behind.

"Aye, they have been summoned." Elladan said, turning around and shining his torch down the path they had come from; the light did not penetrate the dark for more than a few yards.

Elrohir jumped when Irime's hand gripped his own. "Can you see them?" She whispered, moving closer to him.

Elrohir shook his head. "My eyes see only the darkness."

"I see shapes of men, and of horses, and pale banners like shreds of cloud, and spears like winter-thickets on a misty night."

He gently rested his arm over her shoulders. Four hours later, they emerged from the Paths of the Dead. The Dunedain were shaken, but Aragorn seemed unaffected for the most part.

"Take some rest." He ordered, causing Elladan to grin. Finally, his little brother was becoming who he was born to be. "We leave at dawn."

Irime rested her hand on Legolas' shoulder. "Legolas . . ."

He turned and looked at her for a long time, then kissed her cheek lightly. "You are forgiven." His voice was cheery, but his sapphire eyes were haunted and brimmed with tears. He blinked them back stubbornly, and laughed. Then he removed the silver band on his finger and gave it to her. "Here, take this, it does not belong to me, but someone else." He glanced at Elrohir who sat with Halbarad and a few other Dunedain, warming their hands over a small fire. He wiped his eyes and laughed again.

Irime stood there, rooted to the spot, the magnitude of Legolas' action finally sinking in. She reached up and wiped his tears.

"This is ridiculous," he said, his deep voice beginning to crack. "I'm crying."

"A care titte nati alta melmenen, Legolas Thranduilion." she said, and hugged him.

He buried his face in her dark hair, taking comfort in the small things he had always taken for granted, and he knew then that he would never hold her again as a lover, but perhaps a friend. He pulled back slowly and kissed her cheek again.

"Namarie, meleth." He said, and as she walked over to Elrohir, Thranduilion knew that she was walking out of his life, forever. "Melinyel." He whispered, though she did not hear him.

Elrohir stopping talking when Irime came and sat down between himself and Halbarad, she looked disheartened somehow.

He covered her hand with his own. "Are you alright?" He whispered in her ear.

She nodded. "I am fine." For some reason, he doubted it.

He looked back up as Hallernil finished his tale about an orc ambush, gesturing wildly with his hands as he stabbed at invisible foes. With a rather rude gesture and obscene noise, he imitated the orc as it tripped on its own feet in an attempt to flee. The seven others roared with laughter, though Irime stayed quiet for a long time before standing abruptly and walking off.

After a tense few seconds of complete silence and expectant glances, Elrohir followed her. He wove his way through the thick underbrush and towering boulders until he came to where she sat with her back against a tall rock face. Her eyes were far-off and distant, and Elrohir knew that she did not see him as he walked up to her.

"Irime . . ." He knelt down beside her and placed his hand on her shoulder, shaking her lightly.

She jumped. "Elrohir – you – you frightened me."

"Irime," he repeated. "Are you unwell?"

She sighed, "No, and yes." He looked down as she placed something in his hand. "Legolas gave this back to me," she sniffed. "He said that it belongs to you."

Elrohir nodded slowly, now knowing why the Elf prince had seemed so aloof and quiet, more so than usual. His heart was broken. Taking a guess, Elrohir assumed it was more of a slow, torturing rip into a thousand pieces. No wonder she felt guilty.

"Does it?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

She nodded and kissed him. Her nails brushed across the back of his neck, and Elrohir shivered; it was sweet torture. He shrugged off his leather jerkin. When clothing no longer separated skin from skin, Elrohir leaned down and whispered in her ear.

"Melan le ve linde mela oma, ar ve lote mela i ulma. Lavalye im, ar teith anna coio med nin. I ur siruva lesse ar met nalluvar mi meneli arati."

"Tancave, si!" she breathed against his neck.

Elladan looked around and grumbled something inaudible before going back to his tent. He returned a few minutes later, looking smug. He refused to answer Halbarad's questions, only smiling oddly. It was getting late, he had asked, where was Elrohir? At that, Elladan had shrugged, but the ranger knew he was aware of more than he let on.

Just as the Dunedain were about to retire for the night, Elladan stood up and shouted. "Ai! My celibate brother! Where have you been?" He sounded overly cheerful.

Elrohir turned an unhealthy shade of crimson and ducked into his tent, leaving Elladan to laugh himself silly.


	13. A Golden Cat and Miruvor

Sorry, I know this chapter took forever. School has been hectic. This chapter contains mild SLASH, just to forewarn you. I hope you like it!

Elrond felt ill, but smiled anyway when Erestor reached across the small table between them and refilled his goblet with miruvor. The dark haired advisor sat back down on the sofa and continued to idly stroke Glorfindel's gold hair. The Balrog Slayer's eyes, which had flashed with annoyance when Erestor had gotten up, drifted shut again in contentment.

The Lord of Imladris hoped that the elven liqueur was the right drink for his kind of shock. Glorfindel stretched and made a sound that made Elrond bite his lip to keep from laughing. Erestor noticed and gave him a look as if to say, _What? You have obviously never heard an elf purr before._ The lore master was not sure what to think of that.

There was a timid knock on the door before it opened. A young elf crept in, his embroidered tunic marking him as a messenger of Galadriel. The Lord of Imladris wondered what news she would be sending him. Elrond waited while the youth composed himself, and noted with amusement how large his eyes got upon seeing the renowned Noldorin Prince, Glorfindel, stretched out like a cat in Erestor's lap.

Elrond wondered how long they had been lovers, his two best friends. It seemed odd that he had not noticed it until lately. Then again, Erestor was completely inscrutable when it came to just about anything. Glorfindel, on the other hand, was pitifully easy to read, even if his nightly wanderings had not been quite enough of a clue.

"My lord?" The elf said, causing Elrond to look up. "Word has come that the dead have been gathered. That Lord Aragorn is possibly planning an assault against Mordor." Then he added, without thinking. "Will he have victory?"

Elrond had been thinking the same thing, and looked up at the youth with haunted eyes. "I know not."

Erestor smiled and waved him over. The young elf did not move. "Come here." he paused. "I do not bite." Glorfindel huffed loudly in disagreement. Erestor pinched his side and the Balrog Slayer yelped and shot into a sitting position.

"What is your name?"

"Beleg, my Lord." he took a timid step forward.

"_Narthoniel, haruvalve ture! Ava ruce."_ (Fire-kindler, we will have victory. Do not fear.) The Lorien elf nodded and walked out of the room, his shoulders held a little higher than before.

Elrond smirked. "A bit theatrical, are we not?" Erestor shrugged.

Later, towards the end of the day, Elrond made his way out to the gardens. It was dark, but the stars illuminated the water that jumped happily down the rocks and into the river below. He sat down on a bench and sighed heavily. All of the lights had been extinguished, except for one. Elrond smiled weakly, at least Glorfindel and Erestor were enjoying themselves. He, on the other hand, felt terrible. The miruvor had dulled his senses, but not quite enough. He did not wish to confront his past, but he knew he had very little choice. So much was at stake. In the corner of his eye he saw the light go out in Erestor's bedchamber.

He sat there and let the hours wash over him. It was near to midnight when a voice snapped him back to reality.

"Elrond, are you unwell?" Erestor sat beside him. Elrond nodded.

"I feel awful."

"You will feel better in the morning."

"Where is Glorfindel?"

Elrond would have sworn he saw a bit of a blush creep into Erestor's cheeks. "Asleep."

"I would imagine so."

They both laughed. "Elrond, you know that I, as well, possess the gift of foresight." he swallowed. "Your son will not return to you."

The Lord of Imladris turned and looked at him, his expression was pained. "I have seen it also. A great battle, and he will be slain."

Erestor shook his head. "Not that one. Your younger son." He scratched the back of his neck. "The pain will be to great and he will fade. An elf will return to you, but he will only be a shadow. Nothing more."

Elrond buried his face in his hands, and wept. "All three of my children. The triangle of doom." Erestor pulled him into a tight hug.

"Peredhil, harken to me. Do not think like this, or you bring about your own fate."

The next day, Elrohir began to feel a bit remorseful about the previous night's revelries. They had been riding hard without stopping since dawn, and his saddle was beginning to get a bit uncomfortable. Elladan rode with a triumphant grin, and Legolas appeared to be riding to his execution. Gimli was blissfully ignorant of the entire ordeal.

The sun had set when they came at last to the Hill of Erech. For the first time during the entire day, they could rest. Even though it would only be for a few minutes, Elrohir had never been so grateful. He leapt of his horse. Bad idea.

Elladan skipped up to him. "Did you have a pleasant ride?"

Elrohir growled at his brother.

"I did as well!" his smile faded, but his eyes still danced with mischief. "Are you a bit sore?"

"Just a little." Elrohir winced as he stood up.

"Irime said the same thing!" He lowered his voice. "Must have been an interesting — oof!" Elladan glared at his younger twin from where he lay on his back on the ground. He hissed, Elrohir responded in kind.

Irime walked up and smiled. "Oh, Elladan, you are positively dashing! The mud is a wonderful addition, why did you not think of it before?" Elrohir snickered.

The older twin cursed inventively and with heartfelt intensity. He got up and flung dirt at his brother and his lover.

They all were silenced, though, when Aragorn spoke from beside the stone, addressing the dead army.


	14. Son of Elrond

Son of Elrond

I know that took forever, sorry! It's also really short. School has sucked up a lot of my writing time so I wasn't able to write as much as I like to. I also was out of town a lot so I didn't have my computer . . . . Enough about my terribly boring, Lord-of-the-Rings-revolving life . . . .

The great white standard was unfurled as the Dunedain leapt from the ship onto the dock. The orcs scurried backward in disbelief, some dropping their scimitars and fleeing. Smoke rose from the field of Pelennor and the lower levels of Minas Tirith.

"_Sí na i veth, i veth naid bain!_" (Here at the end, the end of all things!) Legolas cried, drawing his elven blades. A madness was upon him, and the Haradrim and orcs ran screaming from his face.

"_Cuio annan Imladris!"_ (Long live Imladris!) The brothers shouted, racing towards the battle. "_Gurth a chyth-in-edhil!"_ (Death to the foes of the Elves!) Elladan and Elrohir remembered the torment which their mother, Celebrian, had suffered. The thought of the same happening to any other, mortal or elf, made them both furious. Many orcs fell beneath their cold blades.

The victory was swift, though the fires still burned once all was quieted. A thick pall of smoke blocked out the sun and cast a grey shadow over Pelennor. Elladan stood in midst of the carnage, and released a shaky breath that he had not known he was holding. So many, so many lay dead. Theoden had fallen, and Denethor burned alive by his own madness. A thin breeze rippled over the field, and a tattered flag shifted slightly. Even at his distance, the emerald field and white stallion were easily seen. It seemed to wave defiantly – many have fallen, it said, but Rohan will never crumble. A shadow of a smile crossed his face.

The snap of a twig behind him caused Elladan to turn. A ghost, not an Elf, looked back at him. Legolas' eyes were as dull as rainy sky, and his face was smeared with blood. His clothes were torn and he walked with a slight limp.

"The Valar are cruel, Elladan. If not for them I would long be in Halls of Mandos."

The peredhil shook his head and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Legolas, mellon nin . . ." A tortured look stopped the words.

"Navaer, Elrondion! Though like a brother you been to me, I now must leave you. Give my love to Irime." (Farewell, son of Elrond!) He turned and walked away before, like a shadow, vanishing into the haze.

"Navaer, Thranduilion." he whispered to the churning fog, "No i melain na le . . . for I shall not. Goodbye, brother." (Farewell, son of Thranduil. May the Valar be with you . . .) Unknowingly, by those words was Legolas spared from his own bitter fate, and woven into another.


	15. Falling Leaves

Irime looked out across the field of devastation. The high room to which she had been taken after the battle, indeed, after the war for now Sauron had been defeated, had an open balcony from which she could see the Anduin. Bitter tears of grief, and anger, stung her eyes. She had not seen either of the twins for since their arrival, and their absence worried her. Pippin had been her constant companion since that time. His constant babble was better than the painful silence which otherwise ruled her existence. Merry was in the healing ward, along with Eowyn.

The sound of the door opening behind her made Irime turn. She threw herself into Elrohir's open arms, grasping his shirt as if he might suddenly vanish. Her tears of sorrow soon were replaced by those of joy.

"Irime, I return to Imladris tomorrow. I received a letter from my father saying he wishes that I leave immediately." He said softly.

"Then I shall go with you." She said, looking for some sign of emotion in his hard, grey eyes.

"He requested that I come alone." If he felt anything over the affair, he did not show it.

"Why? What is so important that you would have us separated?" She said, desperately searching for any sign of how he felt. "You cannot be angered at my infidelity should you leave me here, alone." She said defiantly.

"Irime," he said finally, "I want to leave no more than you want me to."

"Then let me come with you, Elrohir."

"It is not that simple."

She stalked away from him and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Nothing is ever as simple as it seems."

"Love, you must understand."

"What is there not to understand, Elrohir?" She growled at him, pulling away as he tried to embrace her. "I understand, perfectly well." She drew her knees up to her chest in a protective gesture. "I am sorry if I am not good enough for you." She spat.

"Are you mad?" He cried in disbelief. "I love you Irime. What more can you want?"

"Tell your atar that."

"Irime, what is this all about?"

"I saw the way he looked at me after you left. He could not stand the sight of me, he was disgraced that his son might have any feelings for someone of less than noble blood."

He grabbed her shoulders. "Irime, you cannot be serious! My father loves you like a daughter!"

"Even Erestor looked down on me."

"That is Erestor . . . he is always like that." He tried to make light of the situation, but it did not work.

"They only stand my presence because I was your friend as a child! They would never tolerate me knowing I was your lover!"

"By Iluvatar, then be my wife!"

"Do not jest about such things." She snarled at him. "I refuse to just be another part of one of your childish schemes."

The hurt in his eyes made her turn away uncomfortably. He could not have meant it, she told herself stubbornly.

"It was not a jest." He said quietly.

"Man pedelye?" (What did you say?)

"Le annon veleth nín. Irime. Aniren le. Nalye ore nin." (I love you, Irime. I desire you. You are my heart.)

"Then I say yes."

A bright smile spread across his face and he laughed. "Mel sui lotheg i edlothia an-uir." (Love is as a flower that blooms forever)

Irime took a hold of Elrohir's hand as they crossed the Baranduin and into the boundaries of Imladris. The trip had taken nearly four weeks, for they had been forced to travel slow and cautiously. Elladan had stayed behind, trying to pull Gondor back up on its feet and restore the broken city. The journey had allowed her to truly know the elf to whom she was now betrothed.

Her horse snorted as he realized where they were, and he tossed his head from side to side. The city was quiet, for most of the eldar who had been there when they left had long since sailed to Valinor. She never knew how much a few months could do to a place. What had once seemed to her as lively and real as her own self, now was distant and fading, like a memory from a dream. Even the golden leaves seemed to be frozen in their track from the boughs to the ground.

"Adar!" Elrohir called as they neared his home. After many tense moments the Elf Lord appeared. His face was haggard. He silently led them into the nearest building. The time-trapped leaves shifted uneasily on the broad stairs as they walked up.

Elrond motioned for Irime to stay by the door, and took Elrohir deep into the chamber. They soon took a turn and were lost from her sight. Irime paced nervously for a few fretful moments before seating herself on a small bench. The silence was unbearable. Each time a breeze blew through the room, she thought she heard the returning footsteps and would jump up in anticipation.

The sun, which had been high at their arrival, had sunk beyond the horizon when Elrohir returned. He was alone. Even in the darkness she could see the tears coursing down his face. She reached out to him, whispering his name. The Elf that turned to her was not Elrohir, but a stranger. His expression was so stricken that she stepped back. He shook his head, and gently stroked her hair.

"Farewell, sister." And then he was gone, the sound of his horse fading into the night.

Author's note: evil cackle


	16. Charmed

So sorry for the wait! Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter - they made my day :-)

Irime's tears were spent, as was her hope. She cursed herself, and her twice-beloved brother. She had once been told that fate was a cruel and bitter companion, and now she finally understood the meaning those words. She wanted to go to him, to find the harbor in the midst of a raging storm. She wanted him to hold her, as he had always done when she had been frightened or lonely. Yet, she could not even bring herself to move from her place beside the river. The swirling silver waters seemed ironically peaceful in the cold night.

Irime startled when a soft hand lightly touched her shoulder. He was standing behind her, and she could see the stars glittering in his eyes when she finally turned to face him. Irime's breath came out as a shuddering sob as she collapsed into his arms, and he into her's. He brushed a strand of her dark hair from her face.

"You should have stayed with Legolas." He joked half-heartedly, his voice choked by unshed tears.

She laid her head on his chest and whispered, "No."

He did not push her away, instead he placed his hands on her shoulders and stepped back. "I should have known." He said. "You look so much like our mother."

Irime stirred suddenly, as if awakening, and pulled out of his arms. "Did Elrond tell you why he. . . ." She could not finish.

"No."

She looked up at his eyes, and hated him. Hated him for the pain he caused them both. Hated his ability to look over it and act as though nothing had changed. Hated him for being the child that was accepted and acknowledged. She hated him because it was so easy to love him.

"Irime?" He asked, concerned as she stared blankly at him. He cautiously took her hand in his larger one. "Irime?"

With a shudder and a cry of despair she yanked herself away and fled. She did not want him to see the tears streaming down her face. Her dress snagged on the brambles and she ran, but she ignored them. When she finally had distanced herself far enough away from him, Irime continued to wander. The paths which she had walked as a child were seen in a new light. They seemed different, strange. The darkness which had once been sanctuary now held unseen dangers.

She had to get away. Anywhere was better than Imladris. It held to many memories, and too much pain. Irime stumbled back to the city, weary and lovelorn. She saddled her horse and sped from the city. Lorien was only a week's ride away. It beckoned to her like a single flame of hope in a storm.

Little, though, did she expect the early winter which, when it finally touched the last Elven lands, gripped it with vengeance. First, light crystal flakes touched the ground, but it seemed only minutes before a great snowstorm had descended upon her. The ice cut at her face as she rode blind through the whiteness.

Her horse stumbled on a protruding root, and Irime fell to the ground. Her shoulder and head were jarred on the hard earth. Then the cold enveloped her and she felt no more. _Elrohir . . . ._

Orophin's horse sidestepped and snorted uneasily. The Elf leaned forward and patted the stallion's neck reassuringly. Trusting in his master, Losgil went forward, only to stop a few feet later. Orophin stood up in his stirrups and surveyed the forest around them. Even with his keen sight, he could see little. The dark shapes of trees loomed ahead of him, masked by the flurry. He was about to dismiss it as nothing when he caught sight of a dark lump beneath a tall oak. He quickly leapt off of his horse and cautiously walked over. He lightly grasped the hilt of his dagger. Upon seeing that it was a human form, as he had feared, Orophin ran the rest of the way. The figure lay curled up on its side, and he could see no sign of life.

Orophin lifted her head off of the snow, and gasped. What was an elf maid doing out in this horrid weather, alone? He could not help but bristle at the thought of her careless guard who had let this happen. Had they been ambushed? He quickly gathered her small form in his arms and managed to get them both onto Losgil.

"Friend may you be as a swift river! Go now!" He cried in Sindarin. With a great neigh, Losgil surged forward. Orophin's mind was racing with the pounding hooves of his steed. By her dark hair, she was one of the Noldor from Imladris. She was also obviously of rank, for her clothes, while torn, were of unusually good make.

Irime awoke early the next day, and was shocked to find herself high above the ground, in one of the telain of the Galadhrim. She struggled to sit up, but was pushed down by a gentle but firm hand.

"Daro, hiril nin." He said quietly in his own tongue. (Stop, my lady.) "U-norin im arth nelye firn." He reprimanded. (Had I not been riding in the area you would be dead.)

"Where am I?" She asked in the Common Tongue, for her Sindarin was choppy. Unfortunately, his speech in the Common Tongue was just as poor as her Sindarin.

Orophin sat back on his haunches and cursed himself. His older brother spoke the language of Men, why had he never bothered to learn it? "Forn Caras Galadhono." (North of Caras Galadhon) He said, more than slightly frustrated.

Irime could not help the small smile which crept to her lips. He was not as refined as the High Elves, and it was charming. Just as a puppy who chews valuable things is charming. "What is your name?"

He thought about the question for a moment. "Orophin."

"Nan Irime." Thankfully, she thought to herself, that meant the same thing in both languages.

He had the silver hair of the Lorien folk and sapphire eyes. He was taller than Elrohir, and of a slighter build. He also talked too fast. The though made her laugh. At his questioning glance, she just smiled.

Orophin shook his head and stood up. What a strange _nesse_. She appeared out of a snowstorm, and now she was laughing at him. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. His normal patrol of the borders had indeed proved unusual.

Author's Note: Just for everybody who hasn't read the books (gasp!) Orophin is Haldir's brother, I made him younger for simplicity's sake. The Elvish is all Sindarin and Losgil means Snow-star. That's about it . . . . so REVIEW! ;) you make me extremely happy when you do.


	17. Strange Aura

Sorry (again) for the wait. I have all kinds of finals coming up for school, so I can't really promise that I'll be updating much more often than this. :-( Review!

Orophin had been watching her as they rode. She had stayed quiet, and her eyes were filled with sadness. He knew not to ask why. She carried herself with an air which no could not be adopted by training, but birth only. He settled his horse a few paces behind hers, to give them both the privacy of their own thoughts. Her mare had wandered to the talan shortly after he had brought her there.

He had asked her what had driven her to come to Lorien at such a time, alone. She had refused to answer him, saying only: Where I come from is not your concern, lord, for never will I return. Her sharp tone had startled him into silence.

Now it was growing late and he knew that they would need to make camp, or else continue riding on in the dark, which was madness. The orcs had not yet been completely exterminated from his lands and some still roamed about at night. _Arien_ was low in the sky, her golden face had begun to sink below the mountains. He urged Losgil forward until he walked shoulder to shoulder with Irime's horse.

"We should make camp." He said in Sindarin. "I know of a place not far ahead beside the road where we can stop." She nodded curtly but did not speak. He sighed, defeated, and Losgil trotted ahead. A few minutes later he guided them down an offshoot path. Eventually it ended in an open area, probably about half of a league inward from the main trail.

They did not speak as he tied up the horses and lit a fire. Orophin had with him provisions enough to last him for a few more days at least, but he did not know how long those would last with Irime taken into consideration. They had a small meal of fruit and bread, meager by all accounts. Orophin had a flask of miruvor which he offered to share, but Irime had ignored him. He might as well have been alone.

There was a shadow on her which he could not name, but was there nonetheless. He played the scenarios over in his head, trying to piece this puzzle together. Yet, always, he drew a blank. Her refusal to speak with him, except when directly asked, puzzled Orophin. He had expected her to open up as they traveled, but it seemed as though, if there be any change at all, she had withdrawn even more. She had a far off look in her eyes, like she was looking through him, not at him. It was unnerving. He had to do something, or else he would go mad.

He began on safe ground, at least, he thought so. "Do you like horses?" The question was literally the same in both languages, so he knew she would understand.

Irime looked at him in bewilderment. Had she not made it clear enough that she wished to be alone? Was personal space something that had been lost on this Lorien Elf? "Aye." She said through gritted teeth.

Orophin looked up at the darkening sky with annoyance. "What is your horse's name?"

Irime whirled around, her eyes filled with disbelief. "_Avo bedo!_" (Do not speak!) She nearly yelled, in almost flawless sindarin.

Orophin was taken aback. She had yelled at him. It seemed almost habitual for her, that is, yelling at the opposite gender. He huffed and threw another log on the fire, literally and figuratively. "Avobedo!" He called. Her horse did not look up. "Avobedo!" Again, the mare did not even flick an ear. He turned to Irime. "Avobedo does not know her name."

Irime gaped. First he bombarded her with questions about her past, and now he was mocking her! She stood and stalked off. She could feel the tears begin to prick her eyes again. It was not the action that had angered her as much as how alike it was to something Elrohir would have done. Had she not been so preoccupied with her thoughts she may have seen the shadows in the forest around them, or heard the snapping of the twigs, but she did not.

There was a screech and then nearly two dozen orcs sprang from the forest around them. Irime was weaponless except for a small dagger. A large orc rushed at her, a long scimitar in its claws. Taking careful aim, she threw her knife. It embedded itself in the creature's chest. Yanking it out, she looked around for Orophin. He was in the midst of the fray, slashing at the orcs with his knives. She raised her dagger to throw again, but before she could a cold blade cut her down. The last thing she saw was Orophin's horrified expression as he watched her fall.

The Elf stood at the edge of the forest, watching intently. The orcs had stopped to rest outside of Lothlorien in a crevice in the mountains. Their prisoner had been thrown against the rocks like useless baggage. The Elf did not know who they served, and did not care. He was outnumbered, that was all that mattered. He studied their positions with a trained eye. There were only seventeen left, out of what he guessed had been a rather organized raiding party. A few were nursing wounds. Only a few seemed alert enough to grab their weapons in time.

He drew his knives and slowly advanced. They did not hear him approach, and two were dead before the others realized they were being attacked. Three more fell before any had regained their senses enough to reach for any kind of protection. He watched one knock an arrow in its short bow, and could not turn in time before it let the arrow fly. He embraced the pain that hit him as the arrow planted itself deep in his shoulder like a long lost lover. Using his fury to fuel his body, the Elf slew the remaining orcs.

Panting heavily, he collapsed onto the ground. The blood from his wound had soaked through his tunic. He grimaced as he pulled the arrow from his flesh. The flow of blood was renewed. It was not fatal, unfortunately. Wrapping his shoulder in a strip of cloth from his tunic, he turned his attention to the captive. They had long silver hair, a trait of the Galadhrim. He could not tell if they were still alive, but the large telltale bloodstain on their chest made him worry. He walked over and knelt beside the ocs' prisoner.

He was young, for an elf, with fair features. Legolas peeled back the prisoner's blood soaked tunic and looked at the wound. It was not too deep, but its placing could not have been worse. It was deep in the young elf's abdomen. The Prince removed it without causing much further damage. He tore a long piece of cloth from the elf's cloak and wrapped it around his middle. He grabbed the discarded arrow and studied it.

He cursed. It was poisoned.


	18. A Friend in Common

Suilad! Thanks a lot to my reviewers (as always). This chapter is a good deal longer than my others, and a lot happens. Read, review, enjoy!

Orophin regained consciousness slowly. His whole body was throbbing terribly, but at least he was alive. He remembered nothing after . . .

"Irime . . ." He coughed and sat up. His stomach felt like it was ripping. Gasping, he looked around. He was in a clearing. He knew he was not far from Lorien. The elven magic had not yet faded, but was weak in that area. His senses told him he was not alone.

"I was afraid the poison had gotten the better of you." A deep voice said in Sindarin from behind him. Despite the pain, Orophin twisted around. To his surprise an Elf, solemn and stately, sat beside the fire. He was swathed in a dark cloak. To Orophin's surprise he recognized it as one of the garbs worn by the Galadhrim.

"Who are you?"

Legolas shook his head. "It is of no concern to you. I am only a rogue."

Orophin doubted it. "Yet you are dressed as one of the Galadhrim."

"So it would seem."

The younger elf did not like being toyed with. "There was another with me, a friend."

"I was not their when you were captured. I overtook the orcs afterward."

"Alone?" Orophin asked incredulously.

"Aye. Though I did not find what I sought."

"What is that?"

"Peace."

"You attack an orc raiding party hoping for —." Orophin felt like a fool. The everlasting peace, in Mandos. "Oh."

Legolas smiled. "You learn quickly for a Lorien guard. I find most of your kinsmen are incredibly narrow."

Orophin bristled despite himself. "What do you know about guards? You are a rogue, or so you said. Your type know nothing of the troubles a realm faces."

"I was a guard, once."

"Of what?" Orophin spat. "Stolen spoils?"

"You should be more kind to the person who saved your life."

The verbal thrust hit its mark. "Guard of what?" He pressed, softer.

"Greenwood."

Orophin laughed. "Your heart is true, good rogue. No one but a palace guard would speak of that unpleasant forest with such love."

Legolas smiled. "Not even a palace guard." He continued when a light of understanding kindled behind the blue veils of Orophin's eyes. He pressed his palm against his chest in formal greeting. "I am Legolas Thranduilion."

Orophin choked. "My lord, forgive me."

Legolas smirked. "And no one but a guard would choke so badly upon the telling."

The young elf regained his composure, and his eyes darkened. "Then she is dead."

"Who?"

"I know not." A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "A strange maid, with an even stranger past. Her name was Irime." He was startled when Legolas shot to his feet. He sensed that the Prince wanted an explanation, so he gave it. "I had just found her a few days before, unconscious. She had apparently been riding alone during the snowstorm."

"Damn that cold hearted bastard to the bowels of the earth!" Legolas nearly yelled, jumping up onto his horse and storming off. Orophin was more than slightly puzzled, and alone.

Legolas' horse tore through the trees, the rider in a fury that bordered on madness. Weaving in and out between the rocks and splashing through the streams, Legolas found his way easily back to where the skirmish had taken place. The orcs left an easy trail to follow, even if it was a few days old. His mind told him that after that time, in this damned weather, she would be long dead. His heart would not let him believe it. His heart would never believe it.

He pulled the horse to a halt and leapt off. Frantically searching the ground, Legolas felt the familiar pain return. There was blood, so much blood. Orc blood, elf blood, he could barely tell. A sudden sound, like an injured animal, made him stop. The cry came again, faintly. Surging through the underbrush Legolas stumbled upon something he would never forget.

The image was like a fiery brand that was pressed against his soul; it would never leave him. Her hands were tied with a chafing rope to the tree behind her head. His gorge rose. There was blood everywhere. Legolas fell to the ground beside her and cut the horrid ropes. He took her body in his arms, pushing a bloody strand of hair from her ashen face. Her breathing was shallow. His eyes burned with tears. Elladan had once told him what it felt like to come upon a woman that had been ravaged by orcs. Those words, while revolting, did the scene no justice at all.

"Irime." He whispered her name and wiped a bloody hand-print from her face. "Melmenya, wake up." His voice was cracking. "Irime." He pulled her body to his own. Knowing that what little time she had left was dwindling, he pulled her onto his horse.

Galadriel had just curled up next to Celeborn when a messenger burst into their talan. "My lady! Prince Legolas has arrived, he has an injured elda with him!"

Galadriel grabbed her husband's robe off of a chair and slipped it on. She ran after the distraught messenger. She was not prepared for what awaited her.

In the healing ward, she found Legolas kneeling beside one of the sick beds. He looked like he was praying. He probably was. The news of his betrothal to a merchant's daughter had been no minor news around Lothlorien. She had hoped that the Prince had found love; it did not matter with whom. Yet as she looked down upon the grief stricken sinda, she knew that it had slipped from his grasp.

Once Legolas had told her what had happened, Galadriel sent a guard to find Orophin. Irime's wounds were extensive, internally as well as externally. She could do very little. Irime's best hope was staying still and being loved. Galadriel had seen the same wounds inflicted upon her daughter. She would not let it happen to another- especially not one this young. Turning to Legolas, she spoke.

"She will need more than I can give; Prince, she will need your love."

Legolas' instant bitterness stunned her. "Not mine alone."

"You and she are betrothed, are you not?"

"No longer. Her heart turned towards another." He sat down on the bed and huffed. "A peredhil other."

"Elladan? His heart is like the wind, first this way and then that . . . . no, not Elladan then, Elrohir?"

"Aye."

"I can not say so about him."

"They love each other. I cannot change that."

They both turned when Irime jerked in her sleep. Her voice was so weak that Legolas wanted to throw himself on a sword. She seemed to have that effect on him. "Elrohir. . . . brother, no . . . . . do not let them . . . . . I am promised . . . . no . . . brother, help . . . . it hurts . . . . Elrohir . . . . he lied to us both . . . ." Legolas wondered what twisted landscape she was wandering through in her sleep. "I . . . Elrohir, please . . . ." Legolas listened for nearly a quarter of an hour as the broken words spilled from her lips. When she finally fell into a deeper sleep and was silent, the Prince went outside and was thoroughly sick. His mind was on one thing only.

Legolas' horse was tired after its long sprint, so he had to use another. He found it slightly ironic that Haldir lent him Elrohir's old horse. She was as stubborn as a mule, but knew the route between the two realms better than any other. The chestnut mare plodded along at a pace just fast enough to keep Legolas satisfied. The mountain trails were narrow, but she did not falter. She knew this path. When they pulled out of the mountains a few days later, the mare began to go faster. She was going to see her master. Again, Legolas found it ironic that they both were seeking the same person, but for entirely different reasons.

Elrohir had been celebrated as one of the most skilled swordsmen in Imladris. Only one other could match him. That other was Elladan, his identical twin. The orcs knew his name and feared it, for good reason. He had never forgiven that hated race for the injuries it had done upon his family. Elrond had discouraged their playful sparring matches, in fear that someone may be injured. His fears were groundless, for the twins had only ever been close. Legolas was hoping for that advantage.

Elrohir heard the pounding of hooves before the rider came flying around the bend in the road. Immediately he recognized his mare, and would have approached but for her rider. He was as a phantom swathed in the opaque cloak of fury. His horse dug her hooves into the ground, having smelled him. The rider saw him too, after a minute. Elrohir instinctively grasped his sword.

The stranger dismounted. "Elrohir."

The voice was familiar, but Elrohir could not compensate that familiar voice with those cold, hateful eyes. "Legolas."

"You killed her." He wanted to scream at Elrohir, he wanted to draw his knives and slay him, but could not. He could not kill the only person who had been like a sibling to him.

Elrohir blanched, but said, "Who?"

"Irime."

The peredhil became even paler. "How could you know that? She went to Lorien!"

"She did not make it."

Elrohir swallowed to keep down his erratic heart. "She was ambushed." It was a statement, not a question.

"She was raped." The cold words sliced Elrohir and he doubled over as he spewed what meager breakfast he had eaten all over the ground. The memories came back.

"_Mother!" Elladan's voice echoed through the cavern. The twins were searching frantically, but to no avail._

"_Celebrian!" Elrond's voice was laced with worry. "Melmenya!"_

_Elrohir grabbed his sword – he had heard something. Cautiously he peered around the corner. "No!" He fell to the ground beside her body. "Naneth!" The tears were streaming down his face. He had only just come to his majority. He was too young to have seen this. "Atar! She is here!" Elrond came around the corner and froze._

"_No . . ." Grasping her limp hand he brought it to his face. "Celebrian . . . ." Elladan could not move from his place a few feet away._

"_Naneth . . . ." Elladan looked at Elrond. "Atar . . . . what . . . ."_

"_Outside! Both of you go to Galadriel!" Neither of them moved. "Now!" Elrond boomed. Elladan stumbled out into the light and fell to the ground. His throat was blocked by tears. He could not breathe._

_Elrohir, though, could not make himself stand. His mother's nearly lifeless eyes were staring blankly towards the ceiling of the cave. Elrond grabbed his shoulder and shoved him toward the entrance. "Go! Quickly!"_

_Elrohir lurched forward and barely caught himself. He went to call out to his father, but found Elrond at as much of a loss as he. Grabbing Elladan's scruff, he pulled his brother to his feet. He jumped up on his horse and pulled his twin up behind him._

"_Noro lim! Noro lim!"_

Elrohir looked up at Legolas, and could tell the Prince was not lying to him. "Is she . . . ."

"Not yet." Legolas offered him a hand. Elrohir accepted it. The firm grip instantly became a vice. Elrohir felt the bones in his hand as they began to snap. Legolas threw him to the ground. "_Yrch_! You lied to her! You forced. . . ." He could not speak; his wrath was too great.

"No! Legolas . . . . why would you think that?"

"Irime whispered in her sleep."

Elrohir turned away. "Then you know everything."

"Everything." Legolas confirmed.

"Legolas, I did not know that . . . ." He could not bring himself to say it.

"She loved you!" Legolas growled. "She deserves respect."

"She has it!" Elrohir screamed. "If she was not . . . ."

Legolas tried for a crippling weak spot. He did not care that it was not true. "Was not what? With child?"

By the look on Elrohir's face, Legolas had found that spot. He looked as if he had watched someone gut him.

"No . . ."

Legolas smirked. "You did not think that your actions would have repercussions, did you?"

Elrohir slumped onto the ground. "Since you know of . . . ." He winced. "You understand how this will shame the House of Elrond. Legolas, mellon, please, you must forgive me. I had no idea of that when —."

Legolas interrupted, "Elrohir, why do you not wed her? She would accept."

Elrohir glared at Legolas. "She is my sister!"

This time, Legolas reeled backwards as if hit by a blow from a phantom hand. "Sister?"

Elrond's son nodded. "I thought you knew."

Legolas joined Elrohir on the ground, finding his legs unstable. "I knew not." He looked at Elrohir. "What I said about her . . . ."

"Forget it all, Legolas, as I have tried to do."

"Forgive me."

"There is no need for forgiveness, _mellon nin_."

The Prince stood and offered Elrohir a hand, the latter was cautious to take it. The action hurt Legolas, but he knew the rejection came from his own rashness, nothing else. He laughed and grabbed his friend's elbow, so not to further bruise his hand.

"You are needed in Lorien."

"Does Galadriel know?"

Legolas shrugged. "I know not, for we spoke very little."

"Will you wait for me while I get my horse?"

Thranduilion smiled. "Aye, I shall." As he watched Elrohir jog off, Legolas pondered what he had learned. It all was staggering, a scandal that could ruin the House of Elrond. He could not fathom how Elrohir must have felt upon learning that his lover was actually his blood sister. _Does Elladan know? _Legolas wondered. _Probably not, or else his twin would be here, helping to ease his pain._ Legolas did not know why Irime had not been acknowledged, and figured Elrohir did not know either. The Prince was curious, also, about who knew. Recalling their short conversation, he had gathered that Galadriel did not know. At least, that is how it seemed. Elrond and Celebrian must know – and those closest to the Lord of Imladris. The name came to him immediately, Erestor.

"Who else?" He whispered to himself. The advisor knew more about the elven city than any other, possibly even more than Elrond himself. Since Legolas was mostly sure that Erestor knew, it meant Glorfindel did also. Rumor had it that those two shared more than just secrets.

The soft plodding of hooves brought him back to reality. Elrohir was on his large grey warhorse and led another behind him. Nodding to the old mare he said, "We need more speed than she can give. Narion will show you haste if you ask it of him." Legolas took the reins of the large chestnut. "She can find her way home."

The Prince mounted the stallion, and watched the mare wander off towards Rivendell. Legolas glanced over at his friend.

"Thank you." The peredhil said.

With a short nod, Legolas urged his horse forward. "_Noro lim!"_

Irime slowly opened her eyes. Fearing that she still was in captivity with the orcs, her heart began to pound in fear. Her eyes darted around the room, and her pulse began to slow as she realized that, somehow, she had come to Lorien. Her entire body seemed to consist of a giant ache. Her throat closed as she recalled her violation by the orcs.

"You are safe here, lady." A soft voice said from beside her.

Startled, Irime looked over to see the familiar face. "Orophin," her voice was frail. "You are alive."

"Aye."

"Were you not injured?"

Orophin shook his head. "I took a poisoned arrow in my gut, but I am still alive." He hoped to lighten the morose cloud that had descended upon her face.

"How. . . did someone find you?"

The young guard worried his lower lip, wondering if she should be told the full truth of what had transpired. With a sharp realization, he knew that the last thing she needed was a lie. "I believe we now have a friend in common- Prince Legolas."

She nodded, but her eyes took on that distant look that he had come to know. "Yes . . . a friend in common."

"My lady, tell me of yourself."

"There is nothing to tell."

"There must be, Lady."

"First, do not call me 'Lady.'"

"Were you born in Imladris?"

She closed her eyes briefly. "Do not speak of that place."

Orophin nodded, waiting for her to speak. When she did not, he said, "How are you acquainted with his majesty, the Prince?"

Irime glanced at him, surprised. "I do not mean to pry, but how do you know of him?" What she wanted to ask, though, was how he knew that Legolas and herself had been romantically involved.

"Prince Legolas slew the orcs that had . . . . ambushed us."

Irime sighed. "He was wroth."

Orophin sat beside her on the sickbed. "I fear so."

"To where did he go? Were you told?"

The young guard looked uneasy, not willing to rub against her past again. "I know not." He lied.

"How was Legolas when you last saw him? Had he been injured?"

When he heard her speak of him without his proper title, Orophin realized that the relationship between the two elves had been more than friendship. "His majesty seemed well, but had taken an arrow in his shoulder."

"Foolish elf."

"The Prince was very brave, my lady."

Irime glared at him. "He could have been killed!"

Orophin kept silent about what Legolas had told him concerning his wish to die. "No, Lady."

"Do not call me that!"

"Forgive me, my — Irime."

"I wish to be alone."

"Then I shall leave." Orophin stood and gave her a curt bow. He lightly descended from the talan and went to find his older brother. Haldir was at the archery range, training a few youngsters. Seeing his brother approach – or rather, seeing the expression on his brother as he approached, Haldir told them to be off. Orophin walked up and stopped abruptly in front of the March Warden. He clenched his fists and stared at the ground.

"I . . . I will never, in all my years, be able to find one lick of sense in that mule headed woman!" His rant over, Orophin huffed loudly and waited for his brother to say something.

"Little brother," Haldir seemed amused. "You are hopelessly mad about her are you not?"

"No! She is unspeakably rude, and, anyway, does not care about the March Warden's little brothers."

Haldir laughed. "Talk to Rumil, he knows more about such things." Then suddenly serious he added, "Do not forget what she has been through."

"I do not forget." He thought about Haldir's first comment. "You believe that . . . I would ask _my_ brother, who happens to be three hundred years my _junior_ about a _ness_? Are you fey? Go home, I fear for your health!"

Haldir shook his head, still laughing. "He has had more lovers in his short life than you and I together."

"You are wed."

"So?" The Warden made a disapproving sound. "If you will not ask him, Father always gives good answers to such questions."

Orophin looked completely incensed. Then he smirked. "Is Eliniel with child?"

Haldir looked confused. He knew why Orophin would make a jab at him, but his wife? "Not that I know of . . . ."

Orophin laughed, and Haldir gulped. "I am surprised! Brother, last night they could probably hear you all the way in Hobbiton!" He doubled over in hysterics.

"You impudent little rascal!" He jumped, pummeling Orophin playfully with both fists. It was just getting fun when a voice startled them out of their game.

One of the young elves Haldir had been training ran up. "Lord Elrohir is here! And his Majesty Prince Legolas is with him!" The elder of the two gave Orophin a sideways glance.

"You had better hope you are as good as you say you are, or else the Prince will make you look like a fool. Do not disgrace your name, and _please_ do not mention me as your brother." He brushed a leaf off of the other sinda's shoulder. "Actually, Orophin, do your best not to speak at all, or we will all regret it." Making an obscene gesture, Orophin walked off. Haldir shook his head and knocked an arrow. There was a dull thump as it landed in the target.


	19. Nothing

Here's another chapter! So nobody gets confused, the _f__ོ__a_ is the spirit, and the _hroa_ is the body. :-) Read, review, enjoy!

Legolas dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a stableboy. He anxiously waited for Elrohir to reach the foot of the large _talan_. Once he did, the Prince sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time, with Elrohir on his heels. His mind was still reeling from the knowledge he possessed, but it was trivial now. All he wanted was to see Irime.

The two elves burst into the room which she had been given, only to find that they had been beaten there. A fair-haired sinda, dressed in common clothes, sat beside the bed. He was talking animatedly with Irime. Legolas was unsure as to how he should react, and by the look on his companion's face, Elrohir did not know either.

Irime looked up, her eyes sparkling with laughter, and she saw them. The dancing twinkles in her eyes faded almost immediately. Elrohir stepped forward, somewhat reluctantly. There was silence, for neither knew what to say.

"Irime . . . ."

She straightened, whether she did so physically or if it was only her air, Legolas was not sure. "Brother." The word had a knife-edged finality to it. "Welcome to Lorien. Let me introduce Orophin."

"I think we already are acquainted. Sister." His voice had an undercurrent of temper.

Orophin made a short bow, almost impudently. "My lord."

"Warden." said Elrohir, in sindarin. "Has there been much trouble with orcs on the border?" It was a stinging reminder that Elrohir outranked Orophin tremendously, and would not tolerate any overbold behavior.

Orophin took it all in stride. "Lord, there is nothing that you need to worry yourself over. Your guards are well trained; they will defend you."

"I have no guards."

The warden did not hesitate for a second. "Pardon me, lord, I thought that since you sent none with Lady Irime, they had all stayed with you."

"_Iluve nan seldor! Pusta!_" (You all are boys! Stop!) Irime yelled.

Orophin was able to understand enough of her high elven speech to know she was wroth, and for good reason. His pride, now battered by her harsh words, had not let him step down from Elrohir's blatant challenge. He had rather enjoyed acting insolent.

"_Avatyan_." It was Elrohir who spoke first. (Forgive me)

"_Nen __ོཾ__sahtië, avantyan_." (I was wrong, forgive me) Orophin surprised them all when the quenya phrase flowed from his lips. He looked at Elrohir, as if waiting for something.

Legolas shook his head, and spoke. "Lord Elrohir and I desire to speak to Lady Irime alone, if it is not much trouble."

Orophin looked the prince in the eyes and saw nothing but kindness. He was ashamed of his childish behavior. Indeed, he felt like a grubby elfling next to the Prince. "None at all, Prince." He bowed and left the room.

As soon as he was gone, Elrohir sat down on the edge of the bed, taking Irime's hand. She jerked it away. Although the action stung him far worse than any slap could have, Elrohir did not move.

"Irime, will you forgive me?"

"No."

"Will you look at me?"

She reluctantly turned to face him. "What more can you want from me?"

He saw the pain in her eyes, and knew it was mirrored in his own. For a brief time, time had not mattered. The rise and fall of Anor, and the phases of Isil, were irrelevant. It had been far too fleeting, brutally so. The ties between them had collapsed, and yet simultaneously rebuilt themselves. That new bridge that now connected them was different. It was not the firm, solid foundation of love, but, instead, distrust, doubt, and pain. Physical pain, and pain of the heart. The _f__ོ__a_ can only withstand so much suffering - especially when the _hroa_ is collapsing.

"Nothing. I was a fool to think there was still hope." He stood and strode across the chamber, and yanked open the door. The whole flet shuddered when it was slammed closed.


	20. The Lash

I know the update took forever (sigh). This chapter is short, but very important. It's quite gruesome, just to forewarn you. Review!

The soldier of the Haradrim prodded the elf with his sword. "Hurry up, scum." He had not been told why his master wanted the pointy-ear, but he did not question his lord's authority, no one did. He could find no use in one of them now that the Eye had been overthrown, but he left the thinking to those with more wit than himself.

The heavy doors groaned as they were pushed forward. One of the captains came forth and snatched the chain from his hands and ordered him to leave. The soldier left without a word. Part of him did not wish to know what happened to those who entered there.

When the elf struggled against his bonds, the cruel eyed captain laid a heavy blow on the side of the pretty face. The iron spiked gauntlet sliced deeply into the elf's flesh, and blood ran freely down his cheek. The elf gasped in pain, but eyed the southron with nothing short of raw contempt.

"Keep it up, elf," he spat, "And you'll be dead by the time they come to get you." He laughed. "If you are important enough to them." He raised a hand and took a strand of midnight hair between his fingers, and then, without warning, struck the elf again.

"Stop, Varg, he will not be worth much mutilated." The voice rattled in laughter. "At least not now."

Varg snatched the elf forward, and he tripped and fell upon the cold throne. "Bow before your superiors." The captain sneered. The blood still flowed down the elf's face, and pattered on the stone floor. His dark hair curtained his face.

"Who is he?" Varg asked with a sick curiosity.

The lord of the Haradrim shrugged. "I know not." He paused. "Elf! What is your name." When the elf did not respond, the dark lord motioned to Varg.

The whip fell with a vicious crack. It opened a long wound across the elf's back. "What is your name?" The lord asked again. There was no response. The southron captain's lash fell again, and again, and again. The elf did not cry out until the twentieth stroke fell. The scream of agony reverberated in the chamber.

"Name?"

Varg raised the whip to strike again, but the dark lord raised his hand. "No, I think he now will speak."

Blood trickled from the corners of the elf's mouth, from where he had bitten through his lip in an attempt to remain silent. He whispered something.

Varg kicked him. "Eh?"

"Elladan."


	21. The Eye of the Beholder

Sorry it took so long for me to update, but I've been having computer problems. :P Another dark chapter . . .Read and review!

Chapter 21: Eyes of the Beholder

Aragorn dropped the parchment onto his lap and buried his head in his hands. What a fool he had been to trust the Southrons. Not all men have honor. _The lash will be brought down upon him many times for each day that you fail to meet our request._ Aragorn shuddered. Elladan had been sent as an emissary to Harad. The note had arrived on the day that he had been expected to return. Aragorn pulled an old map from a stack of papers. All of the lands between the river Poros and the river Harnen, many of his people lived there. Many, thousands perhaps, had returned to the homes of their forefathers in that fertile crescent after Sauron had been defeated. So many had fled to the cities when the Eye had risen again, and now it was demanded from him. There was no doubt in his mind what would happen to those who lived there if he were to give it up to the Southrons. There also was no doubt what would happen to his brother if he did not. Perhaps it would be the same even if he met the request, or demand.

Could he sacrifice so many of his people to save his brother, and be able to sleep at night without a heavy conscience? Could he sacrifice his brother to save them?

Elrohir was confused, very confused. His heart told him one thing, his body another, and his mind the opposite of the other two. Should common sense overrule emotion? It had been common sense that had restrained him from throttling the impudent warden. He despised common sense. He washed his hands in the river Nimrodel, as if to cleanse away all hurt and pain and guilt. It did very little to settle his mind. As he turned to leave, he saw a figure hovering on the edge of his sight. He faced it, and sighed heavily upon realizing it was Galadriel.

"Grandmother."

She smiled at him, but it was a smile full of pity. "You are troubled."

"By many things."

"And I fear I have yet another to add to your mind."

"What is that?"

She closed her eyes as if to ward off some unpleasant image. "Your brother has been taken captive in Harad."

Elrohir felt her put an arm around his shoulder. There was an underlying message beneath those simple words. _Your brother has been tortured and will continue to be until some arrangement is met. Even then it may not be enough to save him._

"What do they ask for in exchange?" It broke his heart to hear himself speak of his brother as if he were some kind of material item that could be pawned for menial worth. He choked on the words.

"The land between Poros and Harnen." The names hit Elrohir with enough force to make his stomach twist violently. "The Southrons claim it was stolen from the by Gondor during the end of the Second Age."

Elrohir licked his dry lips. He knew that region. He knew it well enough to also know that it would, by this time, be well populated. Thousands could be killed, slaughtered, if the Southrons gained control. Could he let them die? Could he let his brother be beaten and tortured until he, too, was dead? He knew he could not. It was his own blood and flesh that was captive there, his mirror and his friend. He did not resist when Galadriel embraced him and let his tears fall upon her shoulder.

Elladan winced as the orc smothered the wound on his face with a foul-smelling paste. The slice made by Varg's gauntlet had become as swelled, infected mass. The skin around it was a sickly purple color. His mouth always had a vile taste in it. The orc that was applying the unguent swatted at a fly that hovered over the wound. The creature was wrinkled and twisted with age. Beneath the grime its hair was silver. Scars were crisscrossed all over its face and arms. Elladan was repulsed.

"Can't have it marrin' your pretty face, can we now? You ain't worth a thing all messed up." It laughed.

Elladan glanced over at the orc, he wondered how such a heartless creature had been derived from his own race. The muddy brown depths of the creature's eyes met his for a second. The orc shuddered but did not turn away. What Elladan saw there terrified him. There was hatred, but Elladan felt that it was not towards him. There was also so much fear and pain.

"What are you?" Elladan asked quietly, despite himself.

The bowl of paste fell to the ground. "You must not ask questions, elf." It growled.

"What are you?" the Halfelf repeated.

"One of the first."

"Eru have mercy . . . ." Elladan felt he would be sick. One of the first? One of the unlucky elves of Cuivienen that wandered off and never returned? From Doriath or Nargothrond perhaps?

"W-who are you?" The idea that he might get an answer horrified him.

The orc grabbed the ointment and left his cell, but not before Elladan heard the answer.

"Elured."

Elladan vomited. That was the name of the eldest son of Dior. He had been left to die in the forest after the fall of Doriath. Of his fate no tale tells. Would his fate be the same? Death suddenly seemed pale in comparison.


	22. Good Brother

Elladan shivered against the cold. The stone floor he lay on was like ice. The depth of the chamber in which he lay he did not know, but knew it must be deep because the south was warm even in the winter. He did not know how long he had been there. Days, months, years? Time meant nothing to him. Only pain, there was so much pain. His shirt lay in torn strips about his shoulders, which were covered with scars from the lash. He shifted slightly and felt one of them reopen; he felt the blood run down his back. His skin was black from dirt and blood. His normally short, worn down nails had grown long. There were cuts from them on his hands from when he had clenched them during the beatings. His hair, Elladan ran a hand through it, had been cropped above his ears. Elladan shuddered, his ears. With a surgeons accuracy they had been cut round. At first it brought nothing but immeasurable fury, but now there was only an emptiness. It was a strange feeling. It was as if part of his elven heritage had been stolen away.

He looked up when he heard keys rattle. A southron was opening his cell. The swarthy man stepped inside. "Come, prisoner." They had used to call him "elf". Elladan wondered if he really looked so different that they wondered what race he belonged to. He strugged to his feet. "Hurry." The man prodded him with the end of the whip. Elladan knew that he could easily kill this man and perhaps be free. At any other time he would have, but now he felt no desire to. Perhaps, now, they would kill him.

He eyed the whip that had become his constant enemy, and wondered if now he could find release in it. "Are you going to kill me?" He asked, his voice was rough from disuse and screaming. The southron did not answer. Elladan followed him through the now familiar network of passages to the main hall. He was tied to the whipping post. The guard raised his vicious looking whip, then suddenly the door opened.

Elladan blinked rapidly. The light of many torches flooded the room. His guard was quickly slain. Only after his eyes adjusted the brutal light was he able to realize what was going on. Elves, close to fifty of them, had broken in. His knees buckled in relief and tears of joy trickled from his eyes. He immediately recognized their leader. Elrohir looked terrible. He was haggard and dirty, but not injured. Too stunned to speak, Elladan watched as his twin looked around the chamber. When he spotted him, Elrohir ran to his brother. Elladan laughed in his joy, never in his life more happy to see his brother.

Elrohir knelt beside him and cut him free. He looked Elladan in the eyes and spoke.

"We are looking for my brother, an elf, have you seen him?"

Elladan's world fell around him. "B-brother?"

Elrohir nodded patiently, as if explaining something to a child. "He and I are twins. I ask again, have you seen him?"

Elladan collapsed onto the ground, tears falling uncontrolled from his eyes. He looked at his twin. "I am your brother." His voice was weak.

"I do not jest." Elrohir said, suddenly stern.

Elladan closed his eyes. "Neither do I."

"Have you seen him?"

Elladan ran a hand over his face. "No." His brother stood to leave. "Ro . . . ."

Elrohir paused. "What did you call me?"

"Ro." His voice was choked.

"You know not of what you speak, orc."

Elladan staggered to his feet. "How can you not know who I am?" Elrohir shook his head and began to walk off. Elladan gathered his strength and ran after him.

The arrow, when it came, came without warning. It struck Elladan's chest at the same time a soldier yelled, "My lord!" and fired. Elrohir turned to see the prisoner clutching an arrow in his chest, blood seeping between his fingers. Elrohir ran to him, barely listening to the soldier's explanation. He stopped a couple feet away. He had not meant for the prisoner to be killed. He did not want any innocent bloodshed.

"Ro . . . ." Elladan murmured, looking up at his brother. Elrohir put a hand on his shoulder. He startled slighlty when the prisoner fell into his arms. "Hold me, Ro." Elrohir wrapped his arms lightly around the prisoner's back. How could he deny a man his dying wish, no matter how illusioned he was? Elladan put his head on his twin's shoulder. Breathing was becoming difficult. "D-do you remember when we got into that . . . ." he winced in pain. "Store of Mirkwood wine with Legolas and Irime?" Elladan coughed, blood trickling out of the side of his mouth. "You were so drunk." His laugh came out as a horrible hack, and blood sprayed Elrohir's armor. "You kissed her, did you not? I am not sure . . . . . if I ever really . . . . ." he steadied himself before continuing. "Forgave you for that." He grinned weakly. Tears continued to fall from his eyes. "I am older . . . . . I should have gotten the first kiss." His knees buckled and Elrohir guided him to the floor.

By then, Elrohir was weeping. How could he have not seen it? He wiped the dirt and tears from his twin's cheek. "I am so sorry, Dan." He cradled his brother in his lap, running his fingers through the cropped hair. "So sorry."

"Do not be." Elladan said weakly, the life draining from him. "It was just a kiss." He laughed, but his whole body trembled violently. "You are forgiven, little brother."

"No . . . ."

"I could . . . . never hold . . . anything against you." He shivered.

Elrohir rested his head against his brother's. "By Eru, you cannot leave me." He wiped the blood from his brother's lips.

"Damned orcs. They do not like halfelves much."

Elrohir's tears splattered on his brother's shoulder. "I guess not."

"Be careful, Ro." Elrohir could not speak, but nodded. "Do not . . . . worry about me. I am sure . . . . I will drive . . . . Mandos insane."

"No . . ."

"I shall put in a good. . . . word for you."

"Dan, brother. . . . I love you."

Elladan shuddered. "Do not get mushy on me." He stopped. "It is so cold."

Elrohir wrapped his arms tighter around his brother, as if to hold his fleeing spirit in. "Better?"

"I am worm's meat now, Ro." Elrohir shook his head. "Namarie." He shuddered violently one last time before his head lolled backwards. His spirit had fled. Elladan was gone.

Author's note: This chapter was a hard one to write for obvious reasons. Reviews much appreciated.


	23. Lost

ch 23 Lost

Irime ran to the gates of Caras Galadhon when she heard the elven horns' sweet melody. Dew still clung to the grass, and was swept away on her feet as she ran. She had been told of Elladan's capture and was delighted that he finally returned. Elrohir had not spoken with her since their encounter in the healing ward. Legolas had remained with her, a silent sentry who watched her with a diligence that bordered on obsession. Orophin had come and gone with the other elves of the border patrol. They had spoken only a little. Irime could not keep the broad smile from her face as she neared the walls. Her brother in spirit and blood had returned. With him came the one who was a shadow in her joy, and a painful memory that still walked beside her.

Breathless in her elation, Irime met the elven soldiers as they passed through the gates. Her smile faded when she saw their grim, shamed expressions. There were others beside her; their eyes were misted with confusion. Her eyes skipped over the faces, hoping to find who she sought. At last, she laid eyes upon Elrohir. She smiled and reached up to him as he passed. As her fingers brushed his horse's shoulder, the halfelf turned to her.

Irime stepped back when those haunted eyes looked into her own. What had been shining, crystalline orbs were devoid of everything but grief. They were empty of both soul and living emotion. His eyes slid over her like a weak arrow over strong armour. He did not seem to see her.

"Elrohir . . ." She called to him softly. His eyes slowly focused on her own, but there was no acknowledgement in their depths.

It was only when she heard the gasps of others that she looked away from Elrohir and toward the gate. Her gut twisted viciously when she saw what was passing through. Elladan had been laid on bier and wrapped in fine white linen. His pale face was open to the sky, but saw nothing and was scarred almost beyond recognition. She covered her mouth with her hand and her breaths were shuddering. Elladan was dead. His surviving twin was as lifeless as any corpse. Her world had fallen from the heights of Taniquetil to the bottom of the pits of Angband. Her knees buckled beneath her, but she felt strong arms wrap around her to keep her from hitting the ground.

There was a void in her chest that ached for her brother, for both of her brothers. The tears that fell did not seem to fill that emptiness at all. Legolas spoke quietly to her, trying to ease her grief, but it was to no avail. "Hush,_ dim hiril, ereb hiril,_ quiet, quiet, shhh." (sad lady, lonely lady) He cooed, as if to spooked horse. "_Firith ar nov hiril, no din. U-nallo. U-nallo."_ (Fading and hollow lady, be silent. Do not cry. Do not cry.) Legolas gently lifted her up and led her away from the mass of elves that had gathered at the gate. A few eyes lingered on the grief stricken elf woman as she was led away.

Once they were in the forest, Irime began to calm herself. Her face was red and tear stained. Legolas held her arm and walked slowly with her. "He is gone." Her voice was dull.

"Aye."

"Forever."

"Aye, my lady."

"Did you see him?"

"I did."

"They both are gone."

Legolas could say nothing. Admitting the loss of both of his friends was too much. He shut his eyes tight to hold back his own tears.

"You are silent." It was merely a quiet whisper, but Legolas heard it. He turned away. "You could have saved them." Her soft words caused him to stop walking and nod. "You are wrong, Legolas." She sighed. "You too would be dead, although perhaps not below ground." A mad light flashed in her eyes, and she threw back her head, laughing maniacally.

Legolas stared at her. "Irime . . . ." She did not respond, but continued in her fey laughter. "My lady!" She stopped and turned to him, but the strange fire in her eyes was still there. The Prince shuddered; the light in her eyes was terrible and cold and changed.

"Prince . . . ." Her lips twisted into a feral grin. "Go rule your kingdom, and leave the spirits to me!" She tore away from him, laughing once again in her dillusional world.

"Irime!" He ran after her, and snatched her arm. "My lady!"

"Leave me!" She chuckled. "I am not alone here. Go, princeling! You have your kingdom and fine ladies waiting for you!" She escaped his grip once more and disappeared into the trees. Legolas fell to his knees. Her mind had fled as swiftly as the carrion birds come to a battlefield. She was lost to him, and he knew that now it was forever.


End file.
